Gaia: A Civilization Novel
by AJ Chimaera
Summary: Based on a Civilization III game, and written for interNational Novel Writing Month 2005. Mockhistorical chronicle duallayered with elaborations on a more personal level.
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

_Based on a Civilization III game, written 2005 for (inter)National Novel Writing Month. This is the abridged version, and as such isn't truly complete as far as the civilization is concerned. However, after I finished the last section (Delphi Fox & Jane Pilat) I really just lost enthusiasm for adding more. If at first you find it boring (it is a bit really) then skip forward to Chapter 5._

Colossal forces in motion; spontaneous eruptions as vast chunks of semi-molten solids impact upon a larger semi-molten ball, whipped into a spherical form by the mass of fusion it's spatial motion encircles. Slowly, it cools. Gas condenses into liquid; liquid 'freezes' into solid. Impacts are now sparse, in part prevented by a rock's solitary orbit. Continents form, as, ponderously, seismic and tectonic activity mould the surface. Life emerges from the primordial environment; simple at first, gradually gaining in complexity as forms evolve to better exploit their situation. Steadily, life grows, covering every niche of the planet's ecology; like a great heart-beat it booms, then dies off in great waves, through ice ages and further extraterrestrial impacts.

Until one species, with its reckless manipulation of its environment, and the ability to exploit resources in order to make tools, seeks to rise among the rest. Gradually, its inventions gain in complexity, and the members of the species expand in intellect, outstripping it's peers with the ability to learn, to not merely react to the environment, and to quickly and easily communicate new thoughts and ideas throughout its community.

The rise of man was, like all other happenings on the planet, slow in the happening, though relatively quickly when compared to the changes of the planet itself. The various tribes of humanity were many and diverse, travelling continuously in pursuit of their prey, but a select few were the first to settle in fixed locations, and cultivate their surrounding environment. This removed the necessity of nomadic hunting, and increased defence against tribal conflicts.

The initial reaction of many a nomadic tribe, or 'barbarian' as they were referred to by the settlers, to any advance made by a neighbouring tribe, was to take it by force, and to hopefully annihilate the advanced tribe in question in the process. Stout city walls to take defence behind were one of the first new innovations settlers created, and it was now almost a guarantee that the marauding barbarians were vanquished.

One such settling tribe were the Gaian people, who, like many, settled on a river, and were also close to the coast. Surrounded by fertile grassland, their crops were plentiful, and commonly provided excess to requirements. Remembering their nomadic days of wandering the wilderness, with food in a scarcity, their chief, a venerable elder named Chimaera, discouraged those that would eat greater amounts, but instead joined his builders, and designed and constructed buildings, crude at first, to store their surplus grain (hence the name of _granary_).

Made of thick stone blocks for greater insulation, and protection against the elements, the granaries were pyramidal in shape, because of its sound structural strength, and low profile. As necessary, granaries were often extended beneath the ground, or rebuilt in increased size. Indeed, the granary of their initial city (now known simply as Gaia, being the home of their people) was reconstructed after a few centuries as a great pyramid dozens of spans high. Due to food and it's harvesting being the core of their living, Gaians believed that there was no greater honour than to be entombed beneath a granary, and so invariably honoured their chieftains with great tombs excavated beneath the pyramids.

Also inhabiting the surrounding area were large herds of cattle, the Gaian's former prey when they were nomadic hunters. No longer relying on them as a primary food source, many Gaians undertook the task of domesticating the herds, thus adding a steady flow of red meat and dairy products to the diet of the growing city.

As Gaia continued to grow beyond a reasonably capacity of population, many more adventurous Gaians took to heart the overcrowding, and journeyed out beyond the influence of their former home, in search of new environs to settle in. The first new settlement was named Delphi, after the leading settler, and was situated several week's walk to the 'South' (the direction defined as being between the rising and the setting of the sun, when sunrise is on your left; North being when sunrise is to your right). Like Gaia, Delphi was built on a river, but more specifically a river delta, and was built on the shores of the sea. It was also not surrounded by grassland, but well-drained sand and gravel plains. The extremely fertile soil was to prove excellent for grain growth, giving the Delphi residents enormous excesses. However, rather than store it primarily in a granary, like the residents of Gaia, they instead decided that a much larger population could be supported. In the boom of reproduction that followed, many young families chose to make like their ancestors and pursue another settlement elsewhere.

The third Gaian city to be established was Lagash, on the banks of a river wending its way through savannah-grasses, surrounded by mountains, hills, and forests. Shortly thereafter, exploring Gaians crested the mountains over which the sun set, and viewed, spread out before them, another river flowing down the mountain-sides, expanses of plains dotted with forests, and, further along the river, more of the same fertile 'flood-plains' on which Delphi was built. The fourth Gaian city of Umma was soon established.

Meanwhile, in addition to steady expansion, the very nature of the Gaian civilization began to change. As more efficient ways of farming their crops and cattle were practiced, cultivating and harvesting food became steadily less the central part of Gaian life, leaving much greater time every day for other pursuits. Now, it must be explained at this point how the ruling system of the Gaian civilization worked. Veritably by default, the chieftain of Gaia itself, being a direct descendant of the original, was the overall chieftain, or Kahn, of the Gaian people as a whole. However, he had to rely heavily on runners in order to remain in contact, and therefore a semblance of control, over the other Gaian cities.

Two solutions were implemented to counter-act this. Firstly, he knew that the messages he sent were limited by the runner's memory, in that he could not say too much at once, for fear that the message might be garbled or in part forgotten. He therefore instituted some of the more intellectual citizens to create a method by which he might communicate better with the chieftains of the other cities. A written language was therefore created, and now lengthy written messages might be sent, and more complete and informed reports made.

The second solution was to make the messenger's journey more efficient. Seeing that less time was needed in order to keep the populous fed, he reorganized the society, almost completely. Paved roads were already used in order to make the journey out to the surrounding farms and mines much easier, and the difference was quite noticeable. The chieftain therefore decided to undertake a great project; to connect the cities of the civilization with paved roads. Taking all the workers that were less than proficient at their current jobs, he pressed them into road-working.

Those citizens that were better workers now compensated for the absence of the road-workers, bringing the time spent working back up to a premium.

The more industrious, and specialized citizens, successfully pleaded absence from either of these tasks. Some were engineers, designing and constructing new buildings in the cities. These included temples, where partnership ceremonies were conducted; amphitheaters, where citizens, having finished work for the day, were treated to shows put on by various talented citizens; libraries, where scholars used the new writing system to record events, and scientists and alchemists worked to discover new and useful things.

One such discovery arrived by caravan from Lagash. Miners, working to excavate stone blocks from the mountains, had come across veins of a (relatively) soft, shiny metal. The only metals known to the Gains hitherto were copper and bronze. Scientists could find little use for 'gold', however, except for its appearance, which many Gaian ladies took a fancy to. It was, however, quite scarce, and could not be given away lightly.

This presented a problem. The Gaian way of life was relatively simple; during the day, you worked, which entitled you to your share food, shows at the amphitheater, lessons from scholars at the library; basically, whatever took your fancy. Everything was owned by the civilization as a whole, and was freely available to all those who lived in it. But now, with a larger population, there were people doing little or no work, but being provided for the same as people who worked the hardest. And now, there was also an element of scarcity at work, and not only with the introduction of gold. Many talented citizens had been excused off more mundane work in order to pursue craftsmanship, carving wood, fashioning bronze, or chiseling stone, for example. Every piece they made was unique, but it was, like everything else, owned by the people as a whole, and the craftsman simply displayed it somewhere, and it was taken away by the first person who took a fancy to it. There was also the proviso that one might request a certain piece to be crafted, in which case it was customary that something be given in return. It had all worked fairly well, albeit not perfectly, but now it appeared something should be done.

The solution came, perhaps unsurprisingly, from the craftsmen themselves. Currency, as they called it (given that it was always a 'current' value), was a simple system by which a citizen was rewarded a certain amount, based on the work they had done, with which they could then redeem for their food, entertainment, or to purchase a piece of craftsmanship. Given that these had an indefinite lifespan, savings could be made toward a particularly high-valued item, such as gold, for instance. The idea was taken on almost immediately.

The Kahn of the time also saw an extra refinement to be made, and instructed several of the engineers to design and construct a large amphitheater-style building, where craftsmen of all types could display their wares. This marketplace meant that anyone with something to sell could do so, and that anyone wishing to buy items could survey everything the city's craftsmen had to offer, before making a choice. It also provided an excellent place in which to make public announcements; the amphitheater similarity meaning that someone standing on the 'stage' area could cut through any and all din being created. The old communal way of life was reduced, and in it's place rose a society built on capitalism.

All these changes seem hurried, but Delphi alone took hundreds of years to build, and the time between its construction and the immigration to Lagash was also centuries, and similar from there to Umma. One thing did manage to stay constant; the Khan dynasty was continually unbroken from father to son throughout the centuries, spanning countless generations. The Gaian conception of the world was constantly evolving; originally believing in pagan spirituality, like most ancient peoples – the simple spirits of fire, fertility, and the like. This wasn't enough to satisfy the more curious, and a polytheistic system consisting of a pantheon of gods was conceived.

After libraries were constructed, and the more intellectual citizens were allowed to leave manual labour duties to pursue knowledge more freely, change came much swifter. The polytheistic system of belief was replaced by a simpler monotheism, with all power stemming from a single God, a system that lasted for centuries more to come.


	2. Chapter 2: Encounters

Gaian civilization continued to grow, as such things tend to do, and it soon became obvious that they weren't the only such developers on the land mass. Rumors had often spoken of other great races beyond the setting sun, and sightings of scouting groups lent substance to these. Their first official encounter came from the Halite people, in the form of representatives boldly marching to the gates of Rigat – the fifth Gaian city, settled on the sugar-rich plains beyond the mountains encircling Umma to the West.

Unlike Gaian civilization, founded in relative isolation, on the ideals of the nomads they had once been, the Halite had achieved supremacy simply by annihilating any and all competition before settling down. Their civilization was very much based upon the idea of their own supremacy, and the sheer arrogance shown by the representatives bode ill for the possibility of favorable relations. With vast yet primitive armies, the Halite were decidedly belligerent in their demands of the Gaian people.

Hospitality can only be stretched so far, and as soon as the representatives, inevitably perhaps, demanded full knowledge of many of Gaian technologies – including advanced construction and currency – they were forcibly ejected from the city, and told to find their way back to their own people. This they managed to do, bearing tales of the Gaian refusal to bow to their supposed supremacy. The inescapable war between civilizations had begun.

The Kahn refused to let the civilization as a whole suffer, however, simply moving available battle-capable citizens to Rigat and Umma – the cities under greatest threat – and continued to expand Northward, beyond snow-capped mountains, and into the ice-plains dotted with forests beyond. Tyra, Ignar, and Jima were founded in quick succession, taking advantage of a large inland lake, a river wending its way toward same lake from the mountains, and another river making its way through forests rich with deer and other game.

Shortly after the founding of Jima, potential settlers sighted herds of horses – roaming animals that Gaians had often encountered when nomadic. Settled where the delta of a river emptied into an ocean bay, the city of Gorath was a base for horse-wranglers and breeders, where they made a successful bid to domesticate the herds somewhat, to the extent that a good many were trained to be ridden. These were quick to be pressed into service further speeding up communication between cities, but many, deemed still too wild to be utilized in such a mundane task, were instead ridden by trained warriors. Trained in throwing javelins and spearmanship, these providing the fledgling Gaian military with trained cavalry – something the Halite military lacked.

Incursions into Gaian territory by Halite warriors became many and frequent, until finally a massed invasion began, targeting Rigat. The Halite had very much the advantage in numbers, but superior tactics and technology held back the offensive. Gaian archers had begun practicing the usage of longer, stronger bows, capable of shooting much farther and with more force than a standard bow – such that the Halite used. Few attacking warriors reached the walls, and those that did were swiftly repelled by Gaian spearmen.

Losses were inevitably taken by the defenders, but they were nothing compared to the slaughter wrought upon the Halite, especially once the cavalry arrived to help whittle down their forces – some of whom had taken up archery in addition to their already formidable skills. With superior speed on their side, the Gaian cavalry chased what remained of the routed Halite force back to the desert that formed the border of Gaian territory.

Upon receiving word of the defeat suffered, the Halite chieftain sent emissaries under sign of parley, in order to open up the possibility of more cordial relations. Nothing much resulted from this, other than opening the borders once more to trading between the two races – albeit closely watched. It was about this time that another civilization was revealed – that of the Prasian. Like the Halite, their capital was established much further to the West, but North, and over a mountain range from the more warlike race.

The fringes of their expansion, however, were already beginning to lap at the edges of the Gaian territory – reaching as far as the mountain range, distantly visible across the desert from the plains surrounding Rigat. Gaian explorers were soon to discover that this range stretched across the entire continent – a sort of spine to the land.

Three more cities were founded in quick succession, this time to the East of Gaia; one, just South-East of Gorath, was a base for the mining of a new, reddish mineral, which when extracted from the ore, created Iron. Traces of Iron had previously been found, and had been used primarily in increasing efficiency and longevity of farming equipment.

The quantities at which the ore was mined outside of Kora, however, was sufficient to experiment thoroughly with, and smiths were soon founded to forge stronger, more efficient armament for the military forces, primarily those stationed near the Halite border. The threat of force evident, accompanied by several demonstrations as to the effectiveness of Iron weaponry versus Bronze, held the Halite in check for long centuries to come.

It was about this time that the greater minds of the civilization gathered in Gaia for a summit on belief. Many had begun to question the monotheism that had for centuries salved the people's uncertainty of creation, the afterlife, and the question 'why?' – a fact the priests were more than eager to see stopped. But the inhabitants of the libraries disagreed – the fact of the matter was that a belief in God relied heavily on faith, and not questioned the more detailed assumptions, usually glossed over by the clergy.

This was not contenting to the intellectual community, as they preferred reason and logic over blind faith. If something is not able to be adequately proven, their argument said, then it must invariably be open to question. The clergy's resounding response to this was one of indignation, claiming the libraries were sinful, and had removed themselves of the grace of God. When asked why, a great deal of spluttering ensued. The scientific community, as they now were known, laid back and watched their opponents dig their own graves.

The Kahn, seeing this, was unconcerned. He bothered himself with the responsibilities of his people, the duty of which he deemed much more important than endless religious speculation. His son, however, was a frequenter of the libraries, with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He had been one of the chief organizers of the scientific forum on religion, having speculated at a very young age on the more unaccountable gaps in religion, refusing to blindly accept what did not make sense of any kind.

But a Kahn was to be objective, so he had also closely studied religion, learning from the highest ranking Bishop himself in private tutelage. Everything he learned made him question even more, until the Bishop threw his hands up in despair at the boy's lack of faith – a fact that convinced the future Kahn more than ever that the time for change had come. When he rose to power after his father's death, it was decreed that citizens were no longer to be blindly dedicated to a single creed. People were to believe whatever they wished, he said, and to be free to question all they thought was lacking cohesion. The scientific process of organized experiments was adopted as standard in learning institutions nation-wide.

Such a dramatic reorganization on a personal scale was slow to be absorbed, especially by the older and more sedentary-minded, but the more rational tended to prevail, on the basis that religion wasn't actually being attacked as such – only being organized more logically as a personal aspect of life, best excluded from a formal education. This was a pivotal moment in the Gaian civilization's growth, the effects of which were not to be seen conclusively for decades still to come.

Meanwhile, little had been heard from the Prasians. Relations remained open and hospitable, but, unlike the Halite, the Prasians were primarily an industrious and introspective people, focused more upon their own civilization than the doings of others. They were slightly awed, it must be said, of the technological prowess and cultural strength of the Gaian people, which may have led to an understandable reticence. Indeed, the Prasian city of Mera, so impressed by the nearby Gaian city of Rigol, newly settled just North-West of Rigat, voluntarily acceded to Gaian rule. It is testament to the Prasian civilization as a whole that they took this succession with remarkable aplomb, requesting neither relinquishment or recompense, letting the city's residents choose as they preferred. Those who did not wish to acquiesce to a Gaian influence removed themselves rather than make a stand, and many other Prasians chose to emigrate to Mera to experience a Gaian lifestyle. Many stayed.

Trouble, however, was once more on the rise. The Halite, encouraged by recent advances in their own warfare technology and disciplines, became restless once more. It was horses they wanted, and horses they were going to have. Two more cities had been settled to the South of Rigat – Juna on the banks of an interconnected lake network on the desert's edge, and Theril even further South, bordering on two Halite cities. The spot was risky from the first, but it was hoped by the settlers that, like Mera, the two might accede to Gaian rule – especially if they offered usage of the horse-herds that were roaming the surrounding grassland, not to mention the luxury furs collected within the nearby forests.

Unfortunately, the mischievous settlers had been lulled by the Halite docility of the past few centuries – as had the Kahn himself, who stationed no more military than a necessary show of force. The Halite had learned craftiness of their own, however, and had amassed a sufficient force to overwhelm the lightly-held city. Once more, they pushed for knowledge of the most recent Gaian advancements, including designs from the civilization's most talented inventors. One more, they were refused – but this time, it was expected and planned for.


	3. Chapter 3: Theril

Karl Pilat, Commander and Governor of the Gaian city of Theril, stared out the window of his tower, overlooking the battlements and the field beyond. A field swarming with Halite infantry. He couldn't see or hear them, but he knew that Halite crews in the distant forests were constructing Catapults to take down the walls. Walls hopelessly undefended against the armies beyond. At his command, he had three legions; three-thousand trained soldiers, plus perhaps two-thousand population able to fight. They were outnumbered almost five to one, by his conservative estimate.

He turned to his first officer, Scot Smithson.

"I want all those able to run out of here as soon as they can pack their bags," he ordered.

Smithson regarded him curiously. "Not the elderly and children?"

"Children, yes – their parents can look after them. As for the elderly," he gestured at the field beyond the wall, "they wouldn't last two hours before they were run down. Give every civilian the option to flee, but they have to split into groups – a large body of refugees would be easily spotted."

"Why not just evacuate the city?"

Karl looked at Smithson passively. "If we did that, then they'd know very quickly, and come hunting for us. Abandon these walls to engage them in the desert, outnumbered by a factor of five? That's suicide, man." He turned back to the window. "Someone has to hold them here so that the people can escape unnoticed – that's what we all signed on for. We knew building this city was risky – unfortunately, we weren't quick enough to reinforce anything. We underestimated the Halites, and we'll pay for that now." Eyes burning, he turned back to Smithson. "But first we'll make them pay. Carry out your orders, son, and meet me on the walls in an hour."

Smithson saluted and left, and Karl turned back to the window. Scot was a good lad – had his eyes on Karl's daughter, he was pretty sure – and hers on him – but Karl wasn't one to overreact to that sort of thing. With an idea brewing in his head, he took his helmet and left for the wall. He had a siege to repel.

Smithson moved swiftly down the tower stairwell, two steps at a time. Turning towards the garrison, he was spun around quickly by a woman's hand on his shoulder. Cloud Pilat, the commander's daughter and his girlfriend, moved closer and gave him a quick kiss before stepping back.

"What's going on, Scot – where's my father?"

Smithson sighed. "The Halite army's arrived, sooner than anyone expected. They've caught us completely by surprise, and we need to evacuate any civilian who can." Looking into her eyes, he continued softly. "That includes you. You might want to pack your bags."

Cloud looked stricken, then determined. "I'm not going without you," she declared.

Scot looked at her levelly. "Come to the command post on the wall in an hour – your father and I will be there. We can talk about this then. I need to speak to the garrison commanders." He turned away, moving almost at a run to the nearest barracks.

Over the next hour, Smithson went around all the major barracks, telling all the soldiers to spread the word about the evacuation. Heading up onto the wall, some soldiers were already sighting down longbows and crossbows in anticipation of an initial advance on the wall. Entering the command tower above the massive city gates, he moved over to Karl, who was looking at the Halite force with a small telescope

"Garrison's been alerted, sir – the word about the evacuation is being spread."

Karl nodded, still looking through the spyglass. "They're still putting their catapults together," said abstractly. "That gives us maybe a day before they advance – unless they wait for further reinforcement."

"Further reinforcement?" one of the sergeants said incredulously. "They've already got enough men to trounce us good and proper."

Karl turned away from the telescope, half-smiling. "You know that, sergeant, as do I, but they aren't sure just how many men we have here. When their emissaries came knocking, I met them at the gates – they didn't get a look inside. They aren't to know we're less than half-full." He turned to his chief engineer. "How many Catapults do we have now?"

"Not enough," the engineer said wryly. "A dozen, with half that being made out of whatever we can find. And three experimental Trebuchets, which we haven't properly tested."

Karl nodded thoughtfully. "Load up the three Trebuchets with fire-rounds. The wind is still a Northerly from the desert, and the forest are to the South – with this dry summer, let's see how well the plains will burn. At worst, we might roast a few of their infantry – at best we might damage their Catapults, and maybe even touch off a forest fire. It's worth a try, at least."

He looked around at his officers. "I'm not going to lie to you men – we aren't going to win this, no matter what we do. Within a week probably, or a month definitely, we'll all be dead and this city reduced to rubble. Since it's all effectively written off anyway, if you have any idea, no matter how ludicrous, if it'll help hold them off longer – try it. We're already making Catapults out of any wood we can find – we'll also load them up with whatever we can find. Kitchen knives, manure from the stables – anything that'll help put those Halite scum off this place. Don't stop to run anything past me; if you've an idea, implement it immediately. This is not a traditional fight, by any means."

As if to punctuate his thoughts, the three Trebuchets he had ordered loaded fired overhead, fiery payloads crackling as they arced to land smoldering far in the field beyond. Three bonfires soon stood testament to Karl's expectations about the grass' dryness, and the prevailing wind began to whip the flames toward the Halites, sheltering in the forest.

The sergeants took their leave, filing out of the command post as Karl's family entered, both his daughter and wife with determined expressions etched into their faces.

"Are all your belongings packed?" he asked them both, an edge of hope in his voice. His only reply was in the form of twin glares. "Too much to hope for, I expect. Can't you talk some sense into Cloud, at least?" he asked as an aside to Smithson, who threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"Already tried, sir; she has this fool idea that she won't leave without me."

Karl nodded thoughtfully. "I expected as much. She's right, you know." He smiled at the matching looks of astonishment on their two faces. "In a way at least; she isn't leaving without you – you're going as well."

Smithson's look of astonishment turned to outright incredulity. "Me? Why?"

"Someone with official ranking needs to give the Kahn a reliable report of what happened here. Besides," he continued, skewering his first officer with a look that spoke volumes, "there are very few people I trust with my daughter's safety." Silence settled into the room, which he broke quickly. "Well, don't just stand there man; get her away from here – and fast!"

Smithson came to a sharp attention, then shook Karl's hand. "Good luck, sir."

Karl smiled wryly. "Keep it for yourself, son; luck won't help me now." Scot nodded, then stood back as Cloud threw herself at her father, kissing him soundly before settling to weeping on his shoulder. "There, there," Karl said softly, patting her back. "You'll be fine; don't think about us anymore." With tears still outstanding in her eyes, she let Scot lead her from the room, away to the evacuation tunnels.

Karl turned to his wife of decades. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'll be going with them?"

She laughed sharply. "I'm flattered you think I could make it away from here," she told him, gesturing at herself. "I'm too old for endurance running now," she said lightly, then her face went stern, and she drew a sword she'd hidden beneath her coat. "But I can still wield a sword as well as when you taught me, all those years ago."

Karl drew his own sword in salute, then placed it point-first in the floor, kneeling behind it. "It will be my pleasure to fight beside you, my lady." He said eloquently.

She laughed lightly, then, dropping her sword, knelt with him on the floor. Pushing his sword aside, she embraced him warmly.

They fought together, side by side, constantly protecting each other. Until finally, after a week of fighting at the walls, the walls were breached, and urban street-to-street fighting began, the Gaian soldiers inflicting heavy casualties. More importantly from their view, they were keeping the army occupied, not realizing that over half the populace had safely escaped even before the walls were overrun.

After nearly two weeks since the Halite army had arrived outside Theril, the resistance was finally quashed; the commander of the invasion force led his own battalion in a storm on the Governor's Keep, the last Gaian stalwart.

Karl Pilat and his wife were among the last left standing; in a final confrontation, his wife was slain by the Halite commander, who paid swiftly for his actions. Karl led one last charge in vengeance, leading all remaining soldiers running through the corridors of the Keep, back out into the city. They could possibly have won through to the walls and beyond, but all knew it was pointless to do so, and simply set about slaying as many of the Halite army as they could before killed themselves. Hunting down the last of them took the better part of another two days, at great cost of Halite lives. Until finally, all that was remaining were shadows and ghosts, and the Halite armies withdrew.


	4. Chapter 4: Retaliation

Within a handful of months, Theril was reduced to rubble – overwhelmed by far-superior numbers, and with no quick reprieve from across the desert.

The Kahn was outraged – as much as to his own underestimations as to the Halite atrocities. Halite emissaries were given a simple option: Surrender and serve under the Khan, or return to their civilization to warn of their imminent annihilation. Their numbers were mixed, as many staying as leaving. On the heels of those that returned to their homes rode an ever-increasing army of Gaian cavalry, the elite of whom had adopted iron plate armor and practiced swordsmanship over javelin throwing.

These Knights were constantly reinforced by Catapults and new recruits from across the desert, thanks to a new highway originally begun to link Juna with the city of Theril. Arranged so, the Halite forces fell quickly, and two more cities lay in ruins. New Theril was constructed on the ruins of the old, and heavily reinforced as a forward staging post against the Halites, and large armies massed there in readiness, waiting for the signal to move South.

The reason they were waiting, of course, was for Gaian forces to also skirt the desert to the East, approaching the Halites at a flanking angle. To further doom the arrogant civilization, the Prasians too had had about enough of their impertinence, and started to invade them from the North. Not perfectly arranged, the Khan took the opportunity regardless, setting the Gaian forces in motion.

Half of the forces at New Theril advanced East, joining with the secondary armies moving in down the coast before drilling South into the Halite territory. The other primary forces swept West along the Halite border to provide relief to hard-pressed Prasian forces. A formal alliance was brokered and the armies of two cultures brought arms to bear against the Halite, driving ruthlessly Southward, reducing cities to ruins, until finally they joined with the secondary armies again, collectively resting before resuming their drive toward the Halite capital.

Reinforced with increasing desperation as the implacable Gaians continued to advance, still in alliance with the Prasians, walls thickened and strengthened, Catapults dotting the battlements; the city of Halit itself was a formidable stronghold indeed. But it wasn't enough. Gaian ships had transported dozens of more advanced Trebuchets, which devastated the defenses of Halit from outside their Catapults' range.

The surrounding fields swarmed with armor-clad Knights, their polished armor reflecting sunlight as efficiently as they did the Halite arrows, seeming as rivers of light cutting swathes through Halite infantry trying to fracture their lines. Stones flew from Halit defenses, impact craters dotting the soft soil as the engineers futilely tried to smash a nimble column of Prasian light cavalry, while immense boulders were hurled by Gaian Trebuchets in reply, oft destroying entire sections of wall in addition to the Catapults sitting atop them.

Civilians escaping the carnage, surrendering to the attackers, were welcomed and directed to nearby Gaian encampments, or to the ships returning to the Northern cities. The Kahn, who had rode with the primary armies from the outset, steadfastly maintained throughout the campaign that their battle was with the Halite ruler and those loyal to him, not the citizenry; being an autocratic Monarch, the Halite ruler more often than not took what action he best preferred, with or without the support of the people he supposedly represented.

Only a few days after the allies began their bombardment the Catapults were neutralized, and the next phase of the operation began. Unlike most of the Halite cities encountered previously, the walls were too high to scale, and too thick to knock down – from the outside that is. As soon as the danger of their destruction was reduced, the Trebuchets were wheeled closer to the city so that the immense boulders the slung impacted instead against the inside of walls further around – not something they were designed to withstand. By concentrating bombardment on key areas, the effect was maximized, and it was only a matter of hours before the targeted sections collapsed outward.

In an unanticipated move, a large portion of the desperate Halite armies stormed awaiting Gaian infantry out of the gate as the wall was breached in a bid for escape. Gaian Knights stormed the city through the gaps opened in the walls, while Prasian cavalry, untrained in municipal combat and thus held in reserve, rode swiftly in defense of their allies, catching their foes unawares as they thundered around the base of the wall, cutting directly through the Halite column gushing from the city like pus from a wound.

Surprised soldiers cast their weapons down in surrender, others made a run for it and were summarily rounded up and captured, while the more foolhardy turned to face this new threat, and were cut down by archers amid the Gaian infantry. The Prasian commander who ordered this response was later granted by the Kahn the Delphi Cross, for outstanding initiative in battle.

The bulk of the Halite defenders, however, were still resisting within the city, and the pacifying of the city took as long again as the siege to gain entrance. Finally, with only a few pockets of resistance confined to isolated sections of the outlying city, it was time to make a try at the final objective – the independently defended palace enclosure. While siege engines were again wheeled into position, the Kahn and elite regiments of soldiers gain entrance by way of escape passages from outside the city, revealed by the architect, who had sought the Kahn out purposefully after fleeing the city days before the main siege.

Caught by surprise, the guards of the sanctum where the passage originated were able to be taken down without alerting the other defending forces, and the Kahn made his way to the Halite throne room with his personal guard, where the Halite King defiantly, not to mention foolishly, declared that he would remain on the throne until he died, and would relinquish it to no other.

The Gaian Kahn replied matter-of-factly that he already had a far superior throne, so such an arrangement was perfectly acceptable. Thus he instructed his Guard Captain bind the King to his throne, and they abducted him by means of the same tunnel they had gained entrance by. Remaining Halite forces capitulated when they realized they were no longer defending anything worthwhile. The war was over.

In acquiescence with the Halite King's request, he was still strapped into his throne when it was fired into the ocean by a Gaian Trebuchet. The city of Halit, like many others, was rebuilt, except for the palace compound, which became the Kahn's second residence. The adjoining secondary palace, originally housing the Halite King's many concubines, was converted and gifted to the Prasian King in gratitude for his alliance.

The Kahn was noted for saying "One wife is enough for any man, but one can never have too many friends."

Scot Smithson, having delivered his message to the Juna garrison, was inducted to serve directly under the Kahn in his Royal Guard when the ruler passed through to command the armies. Serving with great distinction, he was injured in the final battle for Halit, but survived, and took the hand in marriage of Cloud Pilat shortly after.

The tale of Karl Pilat's last charge was brought to light by one of Old Theril's common soldiers, who had managed to escape the Halite patrols and live in the ruins of the city until the Gaian armies arrived and rebuilt. He told of how the remaining defenders split up and crept silently throughout the city, ambushing patrols in order to sow terror within Halite ranks.

When presented at the court of the Kahn in Gaia, he immediately presented himself to Cloud, giving her news of her father's death – the soldier had seen it himself.

"He was stalking a Halite patrol – merely four men – when another patrol happened upon him. I ran to his aid at once, but he was surrounded. He was in an alleyway, so they could fight only two abreast wither side, and the first two pairs fell swiftly to his sword. I cut down the two closest to me – they had not noticed my presence – but Karl's fourth opponent had left his mark, weakening him, and he fell prey to the last pair of enemies. I struck them down, and knelt at his side, but there was naught I could do. He bade me survive, and bring this tale to you, my lady."

And she wept for the tale of her father, although she had known in her heart all along that he could not have survived. The Kahn rose, and commanded his minstrel to immortalize the tale in verse – an epic tragedy. "Such a great man should not be forgotten. Let his tale be heard down the ages, so that younger generations may benefit from Karl's heroic sacrifice."

It was in the years of the Theril Retaliation, as it came to be known, that the benefits of a predominantly agnostic society came to be seen. In an expansive scientific collaboration, the intellectual elite set their minds to the refinement of the Gaian war effort. The Trebuchets were their first major success in the earlier years, and the armour worn by Knights in the field was under constant revision for effectiveness. Mail shirts was substituted by full plating for better protection against stabbing attacks – at what was deemed to be an acceptable loss of agility.

Ranged weapons were constantly under refinement also; short bows being engineered with longer limbs, then specialised for use on horse-back, then complemented with the crossbow for greater power and less reliance on trajectory. This led a small group of scientists down the path of speculating how else to propel a projectile at speed. Pitch and Naptha had been used to enhance Catapult and Trebuchet shots, and it was theorised whether the qualities that made them inflammable could be implemented in other directions – namely, propulsion. Basic explosives were engineered, until one of the scientists – a young man named Petre – chose to investigate in other directions.

Resurrecting ancient ideas, he experimented with flint, making sparks – and failed miserably. Until one day sparks fell on a nearby rock, dusted with a sort of powder – being near the sea, he'd mistaken it for salt left from evaporation. The rock burst into flame briefly, then stopped just as quickly. Looking around, he came across more of the substance, which was to be named in his honour as Petre-salt, or Saltpetre as it later became known as.

This discovery came too late in the war to be of use, but the theory behind it was what interested the scientists more, and work continued. The powder was refined somewhat, after extensive experimentation, and the result was a design based on a crossbow, sans the limbs now that a bow was no longer required. The first test proved successful, exploding the bolt along the track of the device at great speed, burying it deep in a metal wall.

But Petre was not content; the device was too inefficient. By enclosing the track and combustion chamber, he was able to focus the explosive propulsion into forward motion – literally, the projectile would have nowhere else to go but forward. This also greatly increased accuracy – travelling along the enclosed pipe, the bolt – or bullet as it became after reconstruction to be stronger – would be more likely to fire straight. Further tests penetrated the metal wall entirely.

Having fired infantry combat into the future, he then turned his mind to mass-bombardment – the Trebuchet was a tremendous achievement, but required too many materials to build and a trained engineer to operate. What he was after was a weapon that would canonise the battlefield and cut the time needed to bring down the walls of a besieged city.

Starting simple, he engineered a larger version of his infantry weapon – simply, a small combustion chamber with a fuse to light extending into a long metal pipe. His first test was to fire a stone, just as a Trebuchet, but he'd underestimated the power of the explosion – the only result was a large cloud of dust and stone chunks being exploded hundreds of metres away. It was dismissed by many as a failure, as it didn't achieve what he'd set out to do, but he disagreed – such a flak device would decimate infantry. But they were correct in a way – he hadn't completed his objective.

Contracting the blacksmith that had engineered his bullets, he loaded his pipe with a precisely measured metal ball in place of a stone. Upon firing, the ball flew at tremendous velocity, obliterating the simple wall of stones he'd erected in the field. By experimenting with raised angles, differently shaped charges, denser construction and more explosives, Petre succeeded in far exceeding the range and destructive potential of a Trebuchet.

The blacksmith also had his own ideas – engineering a round that exploded upon impact, and due to the speed the round was inevitably travelling at the point of impact, it actually penetrated the target before exploding, creating a significant dent in even reinforced walls, or a whole group of infantry on the field. Petre had finally created his Cannon.

After the Theril Retaliation, minds were set off military matters to a degree, and much was theorised in practical directions. Ships of the day were still of a wooden superstructure; stout galleys that were risky at best to sail in rougher seas. Experiments with Iron frames were successful, creating stronger hulls for ocean-going vessels, but there was still the problem of Navigation.

When transporting armies into Halite territory, the helmsman had known the direction in which they must travel, and had steered accordingly by the placing of the sun by day, and by certain easily recognisable star formations by night. This was successful, to a point, but very imprecise, not to mention very prone to error.

Magnetism, a long known quality of lodestones, was studied more thoroughly. It had long been the subject of discussion that a lodestone, left without interference, would align itself almost unerringly pointing North-South. Exploiting this fact, scientists designed the compass; a device that contained a free-floating magnetic lodestone that would always point North, with an adjustable dial on the top to display one's corresponding direction.

But this was not enough for the Kahn to be content to condone extensive naval activity. Iron ships, he pointed out, were strong enough for ocean-faring, but were heavy, and thus slow, and had a bad habit of rusting. Wood was not as subject to corrosion, once treated against rot, but could not practically withstand the pressures the open seas placed on it.

The answer came from the blacksmiths. For the processing of Iron, a smith forged Iron Ore with charcoal, then pounded out impurities. But occasionally the Iron would somehow gain more of something from the charcoal, and would be stronger even than basic Iron, and more resistant to corrosion. They had tried multiple times, with various success, to purposefully create this effect, as swords produced in such a way were much more effective on the field.

The quandary then was to isolate just what happened to the Iron Ore for it to become this other metal, named Steel – either because of the ringing it produced when struck, or since many tried to make off with it. Chemists devoted themselves to the problem, and came back with the theory that it was something to do with the levels of carbon – the black stuff – within the charcoal.

A fresh derivative of coal was engineered, called coke, that produced steel when blown through molten iron, and mass forges in shipyards were produced for such an effect. The qualities of steel meant that rust was no longer such an issue with vessels, and since it was stronger than Iron, less had to be used in the frame, and the ship was then lighter, and thus faster.

The Kahn promoted use of these ships simply as a means of naval exploration, but was then approached by a discerning young visitor to the court.


	5. Chapter 5: Delphi Fox

Delphi Fox, named for the ancient colonist, felt restless. He stood alone on the coastal fortress in Delphi, the city of his namesake and second largest within the Gaian continent. But he was not looking out over the city skyline, as many visitors were doing – admiring the view of the flood plains beyond; the river bearing the city's name snaking off to the foothills beyond.

No, Fox looked ever out to sea. With the growing enthusiasm of naval exploration, fuelled by recent breakthroughs of Gaian science, his thoughts were not often on solid ground. At least, not this side of the Eastern Ocean.

Approaching footsteps had him looking over his shoulder, and he smiled slightly as Jane Pilat, daughter of Delphi's governor and niece of the Kahn, walked over to join him. She was also one of his best friends, and possibly knew him better than anyone. Alright, he conceded, some of his thoughts did indeed lie this side of the Ocean.

"Alone again, I see?" Jane asked, although it wasn't really a question. Fox was to be found here almost any given free-day, alone with his thoughts.

He allowed himself another small smile. "Why, I do believe you're right." He paused, looking at her. "Well, not now I'm not."

"Would you prefer to be?" she asked slightly edgily.

He regarded her with a friendly grin. "Not if that company's you, of course not."

She smiled before she could catch herself. "You'd better not be teasing me," she said ominously, but hardly seriously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied lightly, but turned back to his contemplation of the azure water, laid out before them, sparkling in the near-tropical sunlight.

"Dreaming again." This time it was not a question. They ran through this routine almost every week, with only slight variations.

"Even dreams can be realised," he replied cryptically, and she regarded him curiously. This was new. He turned to face her again, to see her reaction.

"I'm leaving tonight for the capital; I've a meeting with your uncle. My ideas intrigue him." She stared at him wide-eyed, and he continued, pointing down at the harbour. "That ship is what's taking me across the bay to Gaia." The ship he identified was one of the new ocean-exploration vessels. "Whether it bears me back here is yet to be decided, I expect."

The import of what he was saying slowly sunk in.

"You mean you're leaving? Over the seas, I mean –starting another colony?" She sounded disbelieving – understandably so. It had been his dream most of life to explore over the seas, establishing a new Gaian outpost like his namesake had once achieved, but until recently that was not even remotely possible.

He shrugged. "That's yet to be decided, as I said. The Kahn promised me a meeting, nothing more. But I'm positive I can sway him – I don't believe for a second that my dreams are unique; I'm sure it's been in his mind to expand Gaia over the seas, once we were able to. Why else would we even explore, if not to expand?"

She couldn't really refute that. "Who else?" she asked instead.

"A number of volunteers. My brother hopefully, if I can convince him." His brother worked in Gaia in the entertainment industry, setting up for plays and shows in the various theatres around the capital. But Fox knew for a fact that he was frustrated with his administrators, and hoped to offer him something new. "I haven't mentioned it to him yet, but I'm expecting he'll be interested." He avoided mentioning who else he would have join him if he could.

She nodded slowly and thoughtfully, and he wondered if she'd caught the missed reference. "Can I come with you?" She asked suddenly, and his eyes widened slightly. "To Gaia, I mean," she continued, noticing and possibly misinterpreting his reaction. "I'd like to see my uncle again."

Fox regained his composure and shrugged. "I'm certainly not going to stop you," he said amiably. "The ship leaves tomorrow soon after dawn; meet me then."

She nodded confirmation, gave him a quick hug, and turned to leave. "See you in the morning then."

Fox turned to follow her with his eyes as she left the wall, turning back to stare out at the ocean again once she'd disappeared. All he saw in the waters now was a pair of steel-blue eyes, regarding him levelly.

The next morning, he awaited down at the docks for dawn to arrive, admiring the immense vessel that was to speed him across the bay, her large furled sails flapping idly in the brisk morning wind coming off the desert. He heard his name called behind him, and he turned to see Jane walking towards him, her parents behind. They had obviously come to briefly see her off before starting work this morning, as his had done. He bowed as they approached – they were Governors, after all.

"Now, none of that, Delphi, my boy," her father lightly chastised him. "We all know each other well enough to dispense with a few formalities. Besides, I'm not on duty yet." He smiled, exchanging greetings and shaking hands with Fox' parents. "In fact, I hear I should nearly be bowing to you, such an innovative chap you are. I don't really think my brother will need much convincing to go along with your idea – just work out the details, I imagine."

Fox smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, sir; I'm hoping so. Finding a commander for the expedition is likely what's really difficult; I'm hoping someone within his staff will be just as keen."

The governor laughed. "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem in the slightest – I don't think he'll need to look very far at all."

Fox didn't quite understand the import of what he said – it all sounded quite cryptic – but he smiled and nodded politely. "I expect you're right."

"Of course I'm right," he replied jovially. "Governors always are!" His wife looked at him sceptically. "They have such good wives, you see; keeps them in line," he continued, sparking off grins all round. It was easy to see why he was popular with the people.

A light cough behind him made Fox turn and notice the captain standing patiently. "My lords, the ship is ready to sail. We should leave soon to catch a favourable tide."

Fox assented, and turned back to make his final goodbyes to his parents and the governors. Walking up the gangplank, he felt a certain sadness at parting, but almost immediately was hit with a sense of excitement; he was on his way to meet the Kahn!

He and Jane waved back at their parents as the ship slipped away from the harbour on small sail, and then hurried to the front when they had cleared the breakwater. Hazily in the distance they could make out the shore further around the massive Bay of Delphi. The sails were unfurled to their full expanse, and the ship seemed to leap forward like a wild animal freed. They whooped with excitement as they sped across the bay – a trip that would take almost a day by road was mere hours by a ship like this.

They stayed above decks for the duration of the swift journey, and were soon welcomed by the sight of Gaia's small coastal trading port – the city itself was inland, but a harbour had been built on the coast so not all good were required to go through Delphi first, making trade into the capital much more efficient. Although not on the scale as that in Delphi, this was more exquisitely designed and sculpted – already steel sculptures were taking the placed of rusted ironworks that had stood there for centuries.

Upon disembarking, they were met by a member of the Kahn's personal staff and a detachment of royal guards, as well as a carriage, of all things. Fox opened the door for Jane, then got in himself.

"Well, this is nice – just as well you came along!" he joked. "It's a long walk to the city."

Jane looked puzzled. "I didn't tell my uncle I was coming – I wanted to surprise him."

Fox looked at her quizzically. "Curious."

Their short trip through the outskirts of Gaia separating the harbour from the city was relatively uneventful, save the occasional odd glance from the average citizen. They both stared out the carriage windows for the most part, Fox looking out Jane's window more often than not. After the better part of an hour at a slow but steady pace, they arrived at the main city gates.

The wall surrounding the outer city was still the same as when it was reinforced during the Theril Retaliation. Few residences other than temporary lodges lay outside the walls; like most Gaian cities, expansion was in the direction of multi-story buildings, as opposed to building new houses outside the protection of the walls. Despite being at peace with the Prasians – the only other civilisation they were aware of – precautions were still taken as a matter of course.

Massive steel gates were swung inward, kept open in times of peace, but when shut provided a solid 2-foot thick defence against any outside force. The walls themselves were thicker than Fox even considered estimating, constructed of precisely pieced together granite blocks from the mountains near Kora, many leagues to the North. Fox also happened to know that the city was built on a solid foundation of volcanic rocks; originally molten run-off from Mt. Chimaera, the great dormant peak to the South-West of the city.

Inside, no buildings were built within a full hundred metres of the wall, and on the border of that break stood the imposing barracks of the City Guard, through which all travellers had to enter. Needless to say, the carriage and it's Royal Guard detachment rode straight through without so much as pausing, the City Guards on duty saluting smartly the carriage and their escort. They might not know their exact identity, but they knew that anyone travelling in such a way undeniably deserved their respect.

This was not a view Fox in particular agreed with, but he wasn't about to comment – he knew his fellow passenger was certainly deserving, or no-one was.

The street leading up from the gates was dominated by tavern after inn after hotel, offering any and every class of accommodation to suit how much one had to spend. Their various rooms and embellishments were displayed outside, and Fox noted most of the more exclusive were closer to the city gates, catching the views of most passers-by, with cheaper rooms the further in. As they continued to penetrate the city, the trend reversed once more with growing proximity to the more exclusive trading areas, and, of course, the palace.

The palace enclosure was one which boasted at least as much defence as the city itself. One stout wall, followed by another 50 metres or so beyond, the intervening space appearing to be the palace stables. At any rate, that is where they disembarked, and were escorted to the inner gates – small enough to admit only a small group of people at a time, although the wall through which it provided entrance was nearly half as high as the primary.

As they passed under that wall, Fox looked about him at the solid, smoothly engineered blocks fitting seamlessly together above and around him, making him feel a slight claustrophobia. Judging by Jane's slightly heavier breathing, he wasn't the only one. Taking her hand lightly, he gave it a reassuring squeeze, eliciting a small smile of gratitude.

"Jane?" a surprised voice interrupted his sudden whirlwind of thoughts. The voice was melodic but firm, carrying strength and authority, much like the man who produced it.

"Uncle!" Jane ran across the short courtyard to embrace her illustrious relative. Fox followed at a much more reserved pace, examining the great man he had come to meet.

A little taller than he, Kahn Chimaera was of a relatively average build, but lean, muscular, and undeniably fit. Dressed in an almost-uniform of military cut, Fox felt distinctly underdressed, despite wearing his best suit, though, evaluating the ruler, he expected most people felt the same way in his presence.

"I just wanted to surprise you," Jane was saying.

"Well, you certainly achieved that, my dear." The Kahn looked up at Fox. "And you must be the young man with the interesting ideas."

Fox nodded. "Delphi Fox, at your service, sir."

The Kahn presented his hand, and they shook. "No need for that, my boy; we're all friends here. You know, Jane here and her father have both said a great deal about you. From them, it would appear your only fault is that you seem to lack them entirely."

Fox smiled wryly. "Not meaning to discredit their observations, but I expect that's a matter you would be better to consult with my parents about."

The Kahn laughed. "Well said indeed! Perhaps one day I may have the pleasure of doing just that. For now why don't we retreat somewhere out of this blazing sun, and get some refreshment." He turned and led them inside the ornate wooden doors. Fox raised an eyebrow at Jane, mouthing the words, 'Me, faultless?' She blushed and preceded him inside, following her uncle down a corridor into a spacious lounge area.

"Now, your belongings have been taken to your rooms," he said, taking a comfortable seat by the window. "I'll show you to them after we've had a bit more of a chat. Now, would anyone like something to drink before we start – some ale, a nice wine perhaps?"

Fox found himself regarded first, smiled, and gestured at Jane. "Ladies first, my lord."

The Kahn looked pleased. "Indeed. I don't suppose I could encourage you to stay longer – you might teach some of my courtiers far better manners. My dear?" he enquired of his niece, caught regarding Delphi.

She blushed. "Ah, a nice white wine, if you don't mind, uncle."

"But of course, my dear. And the gentleman?"

Fox' mind raced momentarily, then remembered Jane telling him once of the Kahn's favourite drink, though he was sure she wouldn't remember telling him.

"I'll have a Theril Brandy, thank you. On the rocks, if possible."

The Kahn's eyebrows shot up. "Why, that's my own favourite," he said, sounding surprised but delighted. "Do you have yours with lemon?" he inquired.

Fox smiled slightly. "When it's available," he said wryly. "Sometimes lime for variation."

"Indeed, the seasons can be temperamental," the Kahn sympathised. He rang a small bell and asked the butler for two Brandies, with ice and lime, and a chilled bottle of Umma Riesling. The servant nodded and left. "Shouldn't be more than a few minutes," the ruler informed. "Now, please, tell me of your journey. You like our new Falcon-class Frigates?"

Fox had seen the name engraved on the side of their vessel, so he knew the Kahn referred to the ship on which they'd arrived. "Phenomenal. Such speed, and without any of the uneasy creaking of the old wooden boats. And the stability in the water was amazing."

The Kahn nodded. "You know a fair bit about ships and sailing then?"

"Not nearly as much as I'd like," Fox demurred. "I've been out on the bay a few times, and read quite a bit of the engineering specifications, but I'm no professional, by any stretch."

The Kahn scoffed politely. "Well if that's your experience, then it sounds as if you know more than anyone except perhaps the engineers themselves, and the captains, I suppose. Though their knowledge is more how to operate the beast, not how it actually works."

Fox accepted the compliment with a shrug. "I'll have to take your word, sir. I haven't made a proper study of them."

The Kahn turned to regard his niece. "Is he always like this? Such irritating modestly?"

She shook her head in exasperation. "You have no idea, uncle. Sometimes it can take weeks to get a compliment into him, though he dishes them out on a regular basis. It really is frustrating."

Fox blushed severely as the Kahn nodded soberly. "I can only imagine. Just as well he has someone with your perseverance to keep him on his toes. Put him properly into place."

She shook her head. "Sometimes even I throw in the towel – he really does have the endurance of a stone, and the stubbornness of a mule."

Her uncle raised an eyebrow as Delphi continued to blush furiously – mostly because he couldn't really deny anything that she said. "Sounds a bit like someone else I know," the Kahn said cleverly, the implication clear. This time it was Jane's turn to blush, as Fox tried not to laugh. She couldn't really deny those charges either.

Both of them were saved from more of the Kahn's quick tongue by the arrival of their drinks. Fox managed to restrain himself to sipping his Brandy, as opposed to knocking it back in one; he felt sure he'd need a bit of insulation soon. "How's the wine?" he asked Jane mildly, quick to take the opportunity to change subject.

She looked at him curiously from over the glass, halfway through a sip. "Wonderful. Quite fruity."

Fox nodded. "Rieslings usually are. What vintage is that, do you know?" he asked the Kahn.

"Few years ago now," the Kahn mused, picking the bottle out of it's lightly iced chiller. "Ah yes, eight years ago now; a 5036 vintage."

Fox nodded approvingly. "A good year for Umma. The year after was even better, reportedly, but I believe most of it hasn't yet been released."

The Kahn again looked quite astounded. "That is quite correct; I've had my staff trying to gain access to their cellars for a couple of years now for the 5037. You know quite a lot about a great many things, Mr. Fox."

Fox shrugged and smiled. "I keep my eyes and ears open, and a good memory helps."

Kahn gestured at Fox as he looked at his niece. "This is a truly amazing man."

"I know," Jane said softly, seemingly without thinking, regarding Delphi with mute astonishment. She blushed slightly when she realised just what she'd said, but her slip of the tongue went seemingly unnoticed. Given the company, she should have known better.

The Kahn gave her an evaluative glance before returning his attention to Delphi. "You haven't come, of course, to talk about wine, I believe. Your letter to me wasn't particularly detailed, and my advisors took one look at your suggestion and dismissed them seemingly out of hand. Perhaps you could tell me why I should give them more consideration."

Fox appreciated his bluntness, and took another gulp of his drink to smooth his nerves and prepare his nerves. Both the Kahn and his niece regarded him, and he was struck with the image of two eagles considering prey. Forcibly, he pushed all thoughts of nervousness out of his mind and concentrated his thoughts on the subject at hand, though keeping in mind who he was addressing.

"Well, with all due respect to your advisors, I expect most of them would dismiss anything that they had not thought of themselves, for fear of undermining their own feel of power and self-importance."

Jane looked taken aback by his blunt accusations, but the Kahn only smiled slightly and nodded for him to continue.

"Additionally, colonising places over the ocean would introduce an aspect of Gaia that they did not have any semblance of control over – they don't really have any here either, but they're able to fool themselves into believing that they do, to lend themselves worth. By extending beyond the continent, it would be a hole in their control, as far as they're concerned."

"But enough about your 'advisors'; I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. My personal reasons for such an expansion, however – that is, I expect, why you've invited me here."

He paused, and the Kahn nodded, smiling broadly now. "One of the reasons, yes."

Fox nodded, his mind racing. 'One of the reasons'? He pushed the distraction aside, marshalled his thoughts, and ploughed on. "As I it, the Gaian civilisation is at a critical point. It's been a couple of generations since the Theril Retaliation, and people are slowly settling down the continent, claiming what was Halite as Gaian. That's all well and good, but I don't think we should settle only for that."

"Most of the expansion is coming from the smaller, Southern, more newly established towns; the dreams of moving on and settling anew are moving down to the next generations, and people are following that dream, rather than stay and build up a metropolis."

"But as for the greater metropolis-sized Northern cities; Gaia, Delphi, Lagash, and Umma especially. We don't have anywhere left to expand to, realistically – it seems an almost impossible effort to pack up and take a Southerly ship by oneself, or to trek down the highways. There's too many considerations and responsibilities; many think of their jobs, or their children, elderly parents, loved ones," he did not look at Jane as he spoke, "and decide the cost of leaving isn't worth following their dream."

"A state funded expedition, blessed by the Kahn – that offers a completely different opportunity. The whole family can emigrate, loved ones can be encouraged to join for the adventure, and there's a sure guarantee of hard work and a new life at journey's end – another consideration prospective settlers find daunting. An independent party setting off to start anew must build from ground-up, without any aid but what they bring with them. Fund an expedition, send some experienced engineers, artisans, leaders, and a small military force to secure the area, and you put many of those worries to rest."

He stopped and caught his breath; the Kahn nodded slowly, considering his words. "The leader of such an expedition would be crucial," he said, not quite suggestively. "A passion and dedication for its success; a fair idea of the outcome – and above all, a sense of responsibility. A sense of innovation wouldn't go amiss either," he mused.

Delphi sipped his drink and shrugged. "I'm sure you have adequate officers in your garrison," he said lightly. "I haven't really given that side of things much thought – more the theory. I don't much know about that sort of administration."

The Kahn looked at him sharply – there hadn't even been a hint of duplicity in his voice. He really hadn't given it much thought, it appeared – and just as clearly, it appeared he hadn't caught what the Kahn had been hinting at; most of his courtiers would have jumped at the opportunity to put themselves forward – very modestly, of course. He struggled to keep surprise and amusement off his face.

"Officers aren't so capable when it comes to innovation and independent thinking," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Besides which, the officer of the units I send as a garrison force will be there to advise you, if need be."

Draining the rest of his glass, Fox nodded absently, until the full import of what Chimaera had said hit him. Coughing, he managed not to spill his drink as he spluttered, looking incredulously at the Kahn. "Me?" he managed faintly, his voice strained with amazement.

Chimaera only nodded, choosing not to notice the younger man's obvious distress. "Yes, I think you have the best idea of what is required and necessary. I'll write up all the necessary forms and authorisations, and you can take it from there. I'll give you your pick of civil engineers and administrators to take with you."

Staring absently out the window at nothing, Fox's mind raced. "Yes, sir," he said softly, then his voice firmed as he set his mind to work. "Someone to help me as a governor will be necessary; I have observed the Pilats in Delphi, but not closely enough to know all the considerations necessary." ME? What was he thinking – he hadn't the slightest clue or experience. "Engineers skilled in working under close restrictions – conservative with materials, but not ideas." He had thought of himself just as a pioneering settler – maybe an advisor at most, in recognition of his ideas, but certainly nothing more.

"Some minor tradesmen – their view will be important with placement, as will the army officers you send." Light, he only had wild dreams of building cities, usually exercised in his drawing – nothing technical, only faint impressions on what would be nice to see in a town. "And probably someone skilled at civic entertainment – we will need to take people's minds off their shift in lifestyle – that will be inevitable, no matter adventurous out settlers are." He could hardly organise himself sometimes, let alone thousands of people – and all that responsibility! He quailed at the thought. "I'm not sure how many ocean-capable ships you have, but we will need quite a few, I fear."

He sat there, still gazing blankly out the window as if he hadn't said a thing, then blinked and turned to look directly at the Kahn, open concern etched in his face. "Sir, are you sure that this is a good idea?"

The Kahn nodded reassuringly. "I was sure, and hearing your considerations now I'm almost positive. Regardless of what you may think yourself, you have a better grasp on management and governance than many with much more experience. And regardless also of your personal organisation, getting people to move in the direction you want is not something you'll find difficult, I'll wager. You're age won't be a problem – you don't look young in the slightest, and your bearing and manner is of one as old as I – we'll just make no mention of your actual age and be done with it."

Delphi looked surprised at hearing his concerns answered so accurately, wondering if he'd spoken them aloud. The Kahn chuckled internally – Fox hadn't needed to say a thing for Chimaera to know his troubles – they were the same concerns he had to face himself on a daily basis. "Don't worry, Mr Fox, you'll do fine. You may not feel as if you're up to the job, but as long as you think that, you'll try even harder to prove that you are – we push ourselves harder than anyone else can. Though I'll wager Jane does a good enough job," he added slyly, inciting a blush and a scathing glance from his niece.

Fox didn't seem to notice. The tension was still in him, but his eyes had shifted from a concerned doubtfulness to steely determination – a determination to prove himself worthy of the Kahn's expectations – though Chimaera expected it was quite probably more than just that. A very interesting young man indeed.

Fox drained the rest of his Brandy, head spinning, but not with the drink. He looked evenly at the Kahn. "I accept this commission, and pledge to do my level best to establish a settlement worthy of your faith in me." He suddenly looked decades older to the Kahn's eyes, as if a mountain had settled itself solidly on his shoulders. Chimaera only hoped he'd bear up under the weight.

Resting his empty glass on the table beside him, Fox looked at it for a moment, then turned back to the Kahn. "If you wouldn't mind, may I rest a while? I believe I might need it – just for a couple of hours at least."

The Kahn nodded sympathetically. "But of course; I'll show you the way." He waved at the bell-pull next to his chair which he had used to summon the drinks. "There will be one of these in your reception room – someone will always be on hand if there's anything you need, or even if you just wish to be shown around the place." He rose and motioned for them to follow.

Through numerous corridors and up sweeping flights of stairs, the Kahn led them to a corner suite of rooms on the second to top level of the palace. Arched windows offered a breathtaking view over the city stretching to the wall, the harbour visible in the distance. Opening a large wooden door inlaid with the royal crest, he preceded them inside, opening curtains to light up the room. Fox entered behind Jane, and his stride faltered slightly upon seeing the regal apartment.

A pair of couches and a half-dozen chairs, all elaborately upholstered, made, no doubt, of the finest leathers, were dotted around the room – this must be the reception room the Kahn had referred to earlier – Fox spied the bell-pull to the right of the door. Intricately woven tapestries hung on the walls, and the floor was carpeted in what he suspected was premium quality wool – probably from exclusive Lagash Alpaca. Two other doors identical to that which they had entered stood closed on opposite sides of the room, and facing the entrance were W-folding doors out onto a spacious stone balcony.

"I've had these rooms prepared for you," the Kahn told them solicitously, "this is just the common room; you each have private reception rooms, bathing facilities, and of course master bedrooms and private balconies. Jane, your rooms are to the left; Mr Fox, yours are through to the right. I do hope you'll find them adequate."

"Thank you, uncle, I'm sure they'll be just fine, don't you think, Delphi?" she asked him cheekily, smiling at his amazement – his mouth wasn't quite gaping open.

"You're asking me?" Delphi said in amazement, able to contain himself no longer. "I'm really not used to this sort of thing," he muttered, shaking his head as if expecting to wake up from a dream.

Jane and her uncle exchanged an amused look, Jane trying very hard not to laugh aloud. "I may be the Kahn, but I prefer to be an accommodating host," Chimaera explained easily, "And this is the palace, after all; we could hardly be seen as anything but luxurious. I expect you'd do the same if you were in my position, correct?"

"Well, yes, but..," Fox couldn't really say anything to that. "I really need to lie down," he said sheepishly. "If you'll excuse me?" he bowed and almost staggered to the door leading through to the right, stalling again at the sight of his 'private reception room', "More like a flaming throne-room," he muttered, taking in the luxurious surroundings, before closing the door behind him and moving to the other opposite him.

Opening that, he halted again, "One thing after another," he murmured, appraising the massive four-poster bed, his clothes already hung in the oversized wardrobe, more of the luxurious carpeting overlaid with an exquisite – and no doubt extremely expensive – rug, before shifting his gaze to the opening to his private balcony. Lacework curtains shaded another set of those W-folding doors, which he opened and exited.

The first thing he noticed was that the balcony was inset into the building, not overhanging – its floor was the roof of the room below, and to his left was a small door back to his reception room. In contrast to the furnishings inside, a simple stone table seemed to grow out of the balcony, a pair of simple wooden recliner chairs flanking it. The rail bordering the small enclosure was of marble, no doubt extensively strengthened, small arches as the base ensuring nothing important – like a person – could slip through, and a thick crossbar on an inward angle ensured the same of anyone leaning on it.

Moving over to do just that, Delphi noticed for the first time the definitive importance of such precautions; they were almost a full hundred metres above the gardens below. Forcing himself from looking straight down, he shifted his gaze up to the solid walls encircling the palace grounds, watching small figures of soldiers going through the motions of patrol.

Then, there was simply no avoidance; he lifted his gaze and let his eyes drink in the fantastic view. Stretching out beyond the palace walls was the city; block after block dwindling off into the distance, where the Gaia river winded its lazy way around the city from the North – Fox' view was to the West, and in the hazy distance he could make out the mountain range that extended virtually unbroken across the continent.

Looking up and behind him, he noticed that although this was the second-to-top level, he couldn't see any part of the palace extending above him. Remembering pictures drawn of the palace, he recalled that the topmost level was the Kahn's own rooms, running the length of what must be the other side of the palace to this, with a rooftop garden and small observatory.

Shaking his head in mute astonishment, he wandered back inside, leaving the W-doors open to let the afternoon breeze refresh the room. Removing his boots, he jumped onto the bed, twisting himself to fall flat on his back, sinking into the beautifully soft mattress, sliding across the top of the sheets – they must have been silk. He looked to his right and saw another bell-pull next to the bed, and remembered the small, almost camouflaged door in his reception – he guessed it must be the servant's entrance.

Giving the cord a single tug, he waited only a few moments before there was a knock at his door. "Come."

A tall man who must have been in his mid-twenties pushed open the door. "You called, sir?" he enquired.

"Yes, thank you," Delphi acknowledged. "I was just wondering if someone would be able to wake me up in..," he noticed the clock on the wall next to the door, "two hours. I'll need to refresh myself and make myself ready for dinner tonight."

The servant nodded approvingly. "Very good, sir. I shall make sure of it myself. Is there anything else sir requires?"

Delphi made a show of considering the question, more to cover his surprise than anything else – servants; light, this would take some getting used to! "No, thank you all the same." The servant bowed and left.

Still shaking his head in wonder, Fox closed his eyes and almost immediately slipped out of consciousness.


	6. Chapter 6: The General

Jane watched Fox make his unsteady way through to his rooms; as soon as the door was closed she doubled over laughing – as well those doors were soundproofed; the last thing poor Delphi needed now was further embarrassment.

Recovering herself quickly, she looked at her uncle, who was himself regarding Fox' door and chuckling quietly. "He isn't used to luxury much, is he?" he enquired mildly; he had always been a master of understatement. "That man is almost too good for his own good, don't you agree?" He fixed her with a sly look and knowing smile.

She felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny – the effect he was after no doubt. "I wish you wouldn't do that," she said, clearly flustered. "Fox does that all the time; smart comments to put my back up."

Her uncle shrugged nonchalantly. "You know you enjoy it," he joked lightly. "You chose to come here and surprise me; it's my turn to get my own back. Besides; if its good enough for your young man, it's surely good enough for me."

"He is not MY young man," she said indignantly, breaking off when he started laughing; she'd reacted just as he wanted. Shaking her head in exasperation, a thought suddenly occurred to her, and she regarded him knowingly. "I didn't really surprise you, did I? Else you wouldn't have already prepared a room for me, only for him."

He nodded. "Very good. Yes, I guessed that you'd probably accompany him, given the friendship you seem to share. In the end, I decided to prepare two rooms and ruin your fun than appear caught unawares." He looked slyly at her again. "Though I had to still consider whether you'd have preferred to share his rooms, not have your own."

"Uncle! You stop that right now!"

He laughed. "Always a pleasure to wind you up, my dear." He sobered up. "Do you mean to accompany him over the ocean?" He made it sound a consideration of no consequence.

Jane moved away to look out the window; the balcony offered a beautiful view of the city, and the mountains in the distance – a distinct reminder of what she'd be leaving behind. Her mind was more on what she'd be letting go otherwise.

"I don't know. I'd like to – all his talk of starting a new life, building a new nation to refresh Gaia. It's all very compelling; I can almost see it as he speaks of it."

Her uncle moved slowly over to join her, nodding slowly in agreement. "He is a very charismatic speaker; more than he knows himself, he will make an excellent leader of the expedition. He may lack actual experience, but his knowledge, and his strength of thought – he generated the effect of experience well enough to me. I expect he takes note of more of the surrounding world than many, and absorbs and remembers experiences of others as if they were his own. Intriguing, to say the least, especially given his age."

Jane nodded mute agreement. "I don't know if he wants me to go with him." May as well get to the point.

"He does," her uncle replied immediately. How did he know that? And with such certainty! "He wants you to go with him, but he won't ask you."

"Why not?" she asked, all too interested.

He regarded her levelly, then turned to gaze upon his city. "Ask someone to leave her family, give up her current life, to join him on an uncertain voyage? It would take a man with a tremendous ego to do such a thing – effectively, he would be asking you to give up everything for him, to share in his adventure. It is not something he will bring himself to do; even if he thinks you want him to – an assumption I don't believe he would make." He shook his head, smiling. "He's one of a very rare, and possibly stupid breed."

"What do you mean?" Now he was just being confusing. His explanation did make sense though, to a point – that would be just like Delphi. Why did men have to be so annoying in their 'consideration'?

"A gentleman," he replied, as if that explained everything. "Perhaps it's because I'm nearly always surrounded by toadies, but a decent person these days seems all too rare – and I can't help but think sometimes that the world no longer has any place for them."

He shook his head again, this time in wonder. "He hadn't even considered being in charge of the expedition – and if I hadn't given it to him, he never would have. He just thought he had had a good idea, and wanted to share it, for it to be considered. If accepted, he would have volunteered to be one of the settlers, nothing more."

"Well, anything more would've been very presumptuous," Jane said, sticking up for her friend.

Her uncle looked at her and chuckled. "You haven't spent much time with courtiers, have you my dear? Any one of the attendants to my court – especially the higher ranking members – would've jumped up and down, pointing out every way in which they were best suited for commanding the expedition – if they'd thought of it, of course. As the young man said, since they didn't think about it, they wouldn't even look at the idea twice." He frowned. "That is one very confusing man."

Jane snorted. "You've noticed."

"Indeed. But we digress somewhat, I believe. The point is, it would be just as presumptuous for him to ask you to accompany him over the ocean, though I expect this thought at least has occurred to him – how could it not! – but he will not ask it of you." He smiled. "If you want to get him back, just ask him directly if he does want you to go with him, and watch him squirm."

"Excuse me?"

He turned to look at her, smiling wickedly. "He'll want to say yes – anything else would be lying – but he won't want to say so for fear that you might you might factor it in to your decision making. He won't think that you'll go with him just because he wants you to – not for more than an instant at least – but he might still think that by him saying so will put pressure on you. Women have done extreme things before simply because a man wanted them to, and he knows this, even if he doesn't believe it of you necessarily."

She snorted again. "He should know me better than that. I won't do something just for someone else."

"Oh, he knows that, and wants to believe it, but he is a man who doesn't take anything for granted – I imagine he says 'not necessarily' a great deal. If there's even the smallest doubt in an otherwise iron-clad situation, he will consider it anyway, and it will eat at him continuously."

She shivered. That sounded exactly like Delphi, to a word. Nearly any argument in which he was involved – as soon as someone presented conjecture as fact, he was there with a 'not necessarily'; when it was with her, all that was needed was a slight disapproving glance, and she could hear him saying the words before he'd even considered saying them. "Why couldn't everything just be simple, without all these convoluted considerations?"

"What's the fun in that?" her uncle said impishly, grinning like an idiot. "Besides, then you'd just complain that we acted inconsiderately instead. You can't have it both ways I'm afraid, certainly not with a man like Delphi Fox, it seems."

"Do you think I should go with him?" That wiped the smile clean off his face, as she'd expected.

"Logically, it would be a good idea; you have more direct experience from your parents – you've seen their job as governors at a much closer level than Delphi has, even though he does seem to have an innate talent for it – if people paid any attention to him, and I get the impression that they usually do not. That's largely due to his age and nominal friendliness, I expect, but if he's placed in a command where no-one knows just how young he is, and he doesn't know them personally, then he won't have any reason to be friendlier than is necessary, and they will follow his lead."

"Your presence, as a direct relation of mine, and as a royal representative, will lend credence to his being in command, provided you treat him with due respect as the expedition's commander – which could be a problem, given that to you he is just a friend. Privately, he can remain as such, and you can fool around as mates all you like, but publicly you will need to be seen as respecting him as the governor and commander, and following his orders as any other – not that I can see him giving you orders as such; I might have to talk to him about that."

She nodded, considering his words, knowing them for true – whether she liked it or not.

"Basically, although your presence as a link to authority would be valuable, it will take a great deal of effort on both your parts to hold it together, at least until he has established himself firmly and people are used to taking his orders. On a more personal front, if you accompany him, then it may very well place quite a strain on your friendship, as I've said, but not nearly as much strain as it would if you do not – sending messages across such a distance will be problematic and occasional, at best, until trade is well established, and personal visits well nigh impossible."

She hadn't considered that – did she really want to face the possibility of never seeing Delphi again, hardly able to even keep in contact? It was a sobering thought.

"Also.., well, really it comes down to what you want, Jane – thinking about it this way is cold, and throws up too much to consider all at once. It's a big decision, yes, but not one you should be making for purely logical reasons of advantages and disadvantages. I suggest you give it some thought, not about the ups and downs of going or not, but just about whether you want to go. That's what really matters in the end."

"Is that how you decide things?" she asked her uncle, ruler of an entire nation, full knowing the answer.

He sighed, knowing she'd won on that score. "No, I don't have that luxury. But that doesn't mean that neither do you – your decision only effects yourself."

"And Delphi," she said softly. "What else were you going to add earlier?"

He looked decidedly unhappy. She'd caught his slip, after all, despite his appeal to her humanity. "Also, if you don't go, then whatever you may feel about you no longer seeing him, he's going to feel just as acutely. Given his responsibility of building the city, shaping the new society, such a distraction might mean he won't be thinking as straight as he might, and he'd be feeling the lack of your advice quite keenly. It may very well drive him harder, and he may keep himself so occupied in his work that he prevents it from getting him down."

She nodded, considering again. That did sound like something that Delphi might well do – but no, she'd caught him unawares at times, when he didn't have his mask on, and he wasn't quite as iron-clad as he made people believe. Most people; she didn't doubt for a second that the thought hadn't occurred to her uncle.

"Or it might break him," she said flatly. "He might find that his work isn't enough to keep him occupied, and he may just give up; hand it over to someone else, someone less capable, and return disgraced. Except he wouldn't do that, because then he'd feel that he had failed somehow, so he'd keep driving himself onward, but in a steadily downward spiral. I don't expect it would be long until someone forcibly replaced him, in which case.., well, I don't know what he'd do."

This time it was her uncle's turn to nod in mute agreement, a look of deepest regret etched into his face, in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jane."

She appreciated the sympathy – and the silent admission that there was no way he could help her, and that he wasn't very happy about that fact. It truly is amazing how so much can be said without actually saying really anything at all. "I think I need to lie down," was all she said, giving her uncle a hug before retreating to her room. Lying down on the bed, she first summoned a servant, asking to be woken in time to be ready for dinner. Then she slept, mind blissfully void.

A knock. Just a knock, but Fox jerked awake all the same. "Come," he answered, noting by the clock that it was time for his appointed wake-up. Sure enough, the same man who had appeared earlier pushed open the door and stuck his head in.

"Sir wanted to be woken?" He said almost as if in explanation; doubtless he had experienced people not remembering their own previous instructions.

Fox answered with a nod and a smile. "Yes, thank you. Um, might I ask where my bathroom is?"

Smiling, the servant indicated a door to the left of the bed. "Just through that door, sir; you should find all that you require."

Smiling sheepishly, Fox nodded. He had obviously been far too out of sorts earlier to not have noticed the door. "Thank you; that'll be all for now."

As the servant bowed and left the room, Delphi silently groaned and fell back onto the bed. Twisting, he threw himself off the side of the bed and onto his feet. Steadying himself on the door handle, he opened it and glanced at the 'bathroom', replete with everything a professional massage-house would be proud to stock, save perhaps the masseur, though he would only be half-surprised to find one in a cupboard somewhere.

A bath big enough for at least two, a stand-alone shower cubicle – not integrated, thankfully – and what could only be described as an overstocked – if appropriately named – vanity unit. And mirrors. Large mirrors. Delphi sighed; he would never understand just who wanted to see themselves fully naked. Well, if they had a body like Jane, perhaps – he just managed to stop that thought from forming.

Moving to the sink, he took one of the many – perfumed, urgh – cloths and proceeded to wash his face. Undressing, he threw his clothes off to a clear patch of floor, made for the shower, then stopped, considering the bath; he could do with a good soak for a change. He set the bath to filling, wrapped himself in a towel and moved back into the bedroom to find some fresh clothes.

Opening the wardrobe, he evaluated the threads he had brought from Delphi, then shifted his gaze to some finer garments down the other end. Opening the door fully, he regarded fine suits in muted colours – how he preferred them – and cut in a military styling, like those of the Kahn. Shrugging, he checked the sizes, and was surprised they would fit. Comparing them, he found they were all perfectly his size – except for a more casual outfit, which was a size large – just how he preferred it.

A not so small suspicion formed in his mind. Well, she was his niece, and she did know his sizing, and how he wore them. Might as well make the most of it, he thought, grabbing a suit in a dark blue hue and a burnt-orange silken shirt and threw them onto the bed. Returning to the bath, he folded the towel over the rung to the side of the tub and eased himself in, revelling in the warm water soothing his tense muscles; not relaxing them exactly – nothing ever managed that – but they became less taut than usual, at least.

Soaking for a few minutes, he rose and let it drain – any longer and he wouldn't want to leave, and look like a dried prune besides. Moving to shower, he proceeded to rinse all the miles off travel out of himself – feeling almost renewed he towelled himself and moved to the bedroom to dress. Finding his shoes, both the worn pair he had worn and the formal pair he had brought for a slightly more respectable look, he saw that the better pair had been polished to gleam – and was pleased to notice they hadn't bothered with the older. He liked them worn – and besides, they would never shine.

Feeling ready, if uncomfortable as usual in formal attire, he left his rooms and sat on – or rather, in – one of the very accommodating couches, the cushions seeming to just give way as he reclined, waiting for Jane to make her appearance. Presuming she hadn't had the same idea and been eaten by a chair already. Laughing at the sudden image, he was interrupted by Jane exiting her room and taking his breath away.

A tight-fitting dress in a lighter, almost aquamarine blue – that was very her colour, he thought – clung to her, the bodice tastefully not quite revealing a couple of her more salient points. She had never been much of one for jewellery, but he noted the ring that he'd given her years before, and the necklace likewise, it's imitation ruby – he hadn't the coin for genuine, more was the pity – contrasting elegantly with her dress and azure gaze. Without realising, he bowed deeply. "Good evening, my lady," he managed. Suddenly the suit he was wearing felt decidedly shabby.

"What's so funny?" she asked suspiciously, ready to go on the defensive.

He smiled easily, hopefully not too adoringly. "Just a thought I had," he explained, gesturing at the couches. "These things are so soft I was wondering if you'd already appeared to wait for me and been swallowed by a hungry chair." He looked at her appraisingly. "You do look good enough to eat, that's for certain."

How he managed to say such things without flushing red himself, he had no idea; she was scarlet as he stood there grinning mischievously. "What do you think of the suit?" he enquired, smoothly changing the subject, doing an agile twirl; showing off and closing ground both. "Just something I found in my wardrobe – would you believe they were all my size?" He stopped, as if with a sudden revelation. "You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

"Well, considering what you usually wear; I wasn't going to let myself be embarrassed by accompanying you," she said scathingly – for all the effect it had.

He bowed again. "And yet you still suffer from embarrassment in my company; I really must apologise. And thank you for the forethought of making me presentable." The last at least was said sincerely, gazing captivated into her eyes. Before either could comment, there was a knock at the door, and he swept away to answer it. Outside stood the same man that served him in his room.

"I was instructed to escort you to dinner, sir; madam," he explained, acknowledging Jane with a nod.

"Delphi Fox," Delphi presented himself, putting forward his hand. "And the ravishing young lady is her Grace Jane Pilat, heir to the governor of Delphi. May I enquire as to your name?"

Shaking Delphi's hand and offering another nod to Jane, he introduced himself. "Karl Psilum; pleased to meet you, sir; madam. I am the head attendant for this level of the palace, and to the Kahn when he allows it. And often when he does not," he added with a smile.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Karl," Delphi said pleasantly, and meaning every word. "Your dedication to service does you proud. Perhaps you could show me around tomorrow; this is my first, and possibly last stay in the palace, but I'd like to make the most of it." Jane walked past him silently as he held open the door; he followed her through and closed it as Karl nodded.

"I would be more than happy to, sir; so long as I am available. Perhaps if you would mention it to the Kahn, he may see fit to free my schedule."

"Well, I wouldn't want to rudely precede any other with my own plans, but so long as another can perform such duties as adequately, I will see my way to mentioning it to the Kahn."

"It would not be considered rude," Karl reassured. "My chief responsibility is as your personal attendant; my other duties are administrative, and my second can perform them well enough."

"Very well; I shall mention it to Chimaera, and we may speak of this more anon. For now, if you would guide us to the dining hall; I suppose we should not keep the Kahn waiting."

Karl inclined his head. "Indeed, sir; if you would follow me." He turned and led them down the hall.

"My lady?" Fox said, offering Jane his arm; she took it with a half-wondering half-suspicious look.

"What are you up to?" she asked almost accusingly.

"Being polite," he replied. "And behaving myself."

"Makes a change," she muttered; he smiled down at her impishly.

"First time for everything, my lady."

The clack of his boots and her heels sounded loudly on the decorative hard-wood floor. Two flight of stairs and a few long corridors later and they arrived at a grand entranceway; Fox saw the beginnings of a sweeping staircase just beyond. Karl gave their names to the door attendant – one of the reasons Fox had introduced themselves, the other being in the vain hope Karl would call him by name instead of that absurd 'sir'. No matter; he supposed he would get used to it; he could fit in anywhere.

With a sidelong glance at Jane, they moved up to the entrance. Fox gave the door attendant a nod and a smile in recognition; it was returned, if a tad thinly, as he waved the doormen to open the door. Preceding them through, he announced them to the assemblage, Fox' name first – and quickly, given his lack of title – and Jane's starting a few murmurs amongst the crowd.

And it was a crowd, Fox saw as they moved through and paused a shade dramatically at the head of the stairs.

"You'd better stay behaved," Jane whispered, barely moving her lips – despite appearances, her voice betrayed a thread of nervousness. Fox gave her a reassuring smile and shifted the arm that linked through hers, holding her hand instead, giving it a slight squeeze to match the smile. Almost unconsciously she moved her other hand to hold his one with her two; only someone close by would notice her knuckles nearly white.

He remembered only then that she had confided in him long ago that she was scared of crowds and public appearances to quite an extent. Taking that into consideration, he felt a swell of admiration for the woman at his side.

Descending the stairs, he took in the room around them. Clearly the grand ballroom, the grand staircase swept down from one of the longer sides, turning quarter-circle to end facing lengthways down the middle of the room. A crimson carpet stretched through the tables to a raised dais halfway down the room to one side. Beyond the dining half of the room lay the dance floor; Fox fervently hoped he would be able to avoid that part of the proceedings. Gentlemanly manner or not, he wasn't a particularly capable dancer – especially not in formal boots.

Having arrived at the foot of the stairs, they were still the focus of the crowd's attention – well, Jane was at least. Males stared openly – except those that were with partners, who settled for occasional surreptitious glances – and females stared daggers. Delphi didn't exactly mind being the second of attention – though he was receiving a number of appraising looks from the more forward 'ladies' in the crowd – he knew that the attention Jane was receiving only heightened her nervousness. "Don't mind me," he muttered.

As they walked to the table, Delphi adopted a walk he had used often when wanting to appear dangerous. Light-footed, almost sliding gait, with one hand clasped to the side of his coat as if ready to draw sword, concealed knives or pistol; he wished he had arranged for at least an ornamental sword. Narrowing his glance and setting his face, he looked ready to do just violence on any who so much as looked at him – or his woman – in just the wrong way. And with Jane on his arm, holding his hand, there seemed no doubt as to who his woman was – it wasn't his fault that they drew incorrect conclusions.

All of a sudden, a ripple of uneasiness swept through at least the male half of the crowd; they clearly saw a man who would brook no nonsense. If anything, it drew more female eyes than before to Delphi, but he wasn't particularly bothered – or interested.

They arrived at the raised section, where a lone table set for five lay waiting. The Kahn rose from his position, at the head of the table naturally, and moved to the edge of the dais to greet them. "My dear niece, it truly is wonderful to see you again," he addressed Jane – and the crowd – and indicated the chair to the right of his own.

Delphi released her arm and pulled the chair out for her to sit, still with his dangerous face on, though it softened significantly when she smiled her thanks.

Once she was seated, the Kahn turned to Delphi and extended his hand. "And Delphi Fox, my dear boy; such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." Clearly their previous meeting was for their knowledge only – if that was how he wanted to play, Delphi could easily oblige. "Jane had told me much of you."

"Mostly uncomplimentary, I'm sure," he replied with a smile, shaking the monarch's hand. "She knows me too well."

"Indeed," the monarch said, chuckling. "Please, be seated; I will introduce you to my other guests." The other two at the table were both men; the one directly to the Kahn's left was clearly a military man in dress uniform, bearing what Fox believed was a General's insignia. The other, to whom Fox would be seated opposite, was probably meant as a sparring partner – he had the faint permanent sneer that was the mark of a self-important courtier, though Fox' carrying himself as a warrior had clearly put a crack in the courtier's composure.

"With pleasure, sir." With a single fluid motion he lifted and drew out his chair, slipped in like water from a pitcher and lifted it back into place – seamless and all but soundless. He obviously drew the attention of the General, and heightened the nervousness of the courtier – that man pulled a silk handkerchief and sniffed into it to cover a worried frown. Fox inwardly smiled; one in that man's position should keep his face well-trained.

Seating himself, the Kahn began introductions, starting with the newcomers. "Gentlemen, I am most pleased to present my niece, Jane Pilat of Delphi. Jane, my dear, you really do visit us much too scarcely – the ladies of my court need a good showing-up more often. Humility is good for the soul, I'm told."

Jane smiled prettily at her uncle. "Really, uncle, I would manage to visit with frequency if the opportunity presented itself, but if it had not been for my friend's appointment, I might not even have managed this appearance." Oh, she was good, Fox thought – hinting at his appointment as something prearranged, and passing him for someone important enough to accompany – the courtier's face barely masked confusion.

"Besides," she added with the faintest of sniffs. "Mine is a delicate stomach, and the bearing of many of your 'ladies' is faintly nauseating – and your food is so exquisite that I could not bear to lose my appetite." Fox allowed himself a small smile at that as the Kahn laughed; the General mirrored it faintly, while the courtier looked profoundly shocked, though covered it with a sip of water.

"Such a wit!" the Kahn congratulated her. "But I neglect my duties – you really can be a distracting influence, my dear," Fox nodded faintly with a slight smile as he continued. "I introduce to you Nevel Rider, Marshal-General to the armies of Gaia."

"General," Jane murmured, extending her hand.

"My lady," Nevel responded, taking her fingers and bowing his head in respect. "My sword for your honour," he added, pledging himself to her protection.

Chimaera gave his General an appreciative look, then continued, "and Garth Ferré, Baron of the Gaia River District and member of the court." Not just a courtier, but a high ranking one, Fox thought as Jane offered her hand with murmurs of 'Baron' and 'Miss Pilat'; he noticed that there was no pledge to her honour from Ferré. If he remembered the details of the Gaian Districts, the River was one of the most influential.

"And lastly, General, Baron, I present Delphi Fox of Delphi, named in remembrance of its founder, and well worthy of the honour, in my opinion."

"You honour me beyond service, il'Khan," Fox responded softly with a nod of recognition, to a silent but intrigued acknowledgement from Chimaera, an approving nod from Nevel, and a gasp from Ferré.

'Il'Khan' in ancient Gaian implied 'Chief above all' in recognition of absolute power and responsibility, one who held the power of life and death over an entire people and their future, and carried with it the deepest respect. The diluted form in common use simply recognised authority; an administrative right and no other. Fox had long believed its adoption did a severe disservice to the Chimaera rulers and their absolute dedication to their duties and responsibilities as leaders of the Gaian civilisation.

"General," he acknowledged, extending his hand across the table. "Il'blûd Gaia," he added – 'True-blood Gaia', it referred to one that was a true and honourable follower of the il'Kahn, with undertones of respect.

"Il'blûd Gaia, Mr Fox," Nevel replied, shaking his hand with a nod and a smile, which Fox returned.

"By the way, I claim honour-right to the Lady Pilat, though gladly I acknowledge your pledge should I require aid in this service."

Nevel nodded, unconcerned. "I suspected as much; I acknowledge your precedence, and retain my pledge, though I doubt you shall require my aid."

Delphi acknowledged the point gracefully, then turned his attention to Ferré. "Greetings, Baron Ferré."

"Greetings, Mr Fox," the courtier acknowledged gracefully, though doubtless he noted that he escaped referral as a true and honourable follower.

Almost as if on cue, the food arrived; dishes served on fine Prasian China – one of the foreign civilisation's finest exports. The food was exquisitely prepared – a trifle too fancy for Fox' normal tastes, but he wasn't going let than on for an instant.

"Are you a swordsman, by any chance, Mr Fox?" Nevel asked, making small talk as he picked his way across the various dishes.

"Delphi, please General. Yes, I have knowledge of the sword, through the forms. Would you like a spar later, perhaps after dinner?"

"Nevel, please Delphi. It would be a pleasure; I would appreciate exercise, and I never was a dancer."

"'One who dances the steel may dance the floor with ease', Nevel, and don't try to tell me that you wouldn't be able to find a willing partner."

"I haven't danced since my wife passed away," Nevel explained softly.

Fox felt a pang of sympathy, but the General didn't look any older than late-30s. and he was not one to give up. "'Excuses substitute solutions poorly,'" he quoted an old adage. "A deal, Nevel?"

The General nodded, face a mystery.

"If I triumph in our sparring, you must dance a full movement of the band, with a lady of your choosing, provided she gives consent."

"And if I win?" Nevel asked, considering.

"Name your price."

"If the General wins, my friend, then you must have a dance of two full movements with me," Jane spoke up.

Nevel regarded her, then Fox. "Is this acceptable?"

"It is." They shook on it, and Fox turned to Jane. "Why such an offer?" he enquired.

She shrugged. "Because I'd like to dance," she said impishly, the implication clear. The General and Kahn guffawed, Ferré laughing politely; Fox chuckled along with them. "Be careful what you wish for, my dear," he said mysteriously, "and upon whom you bet against." He raised an eyebrow at her, then his glass. "A toast to our lady, Jane Pilat, for her quick wit."

"And sharper tongue," added her uncle.

Fox nodded amiably. "And more beautiful visage."

"Hear, hear," they all said, raising then draining their glasses; even Ferré joined in.

"Do you also dance the sword, Baron?" Fox asked.

"Ah, no, Mr Fox; I am not trained for combat; it is with the court that I am concerned."

"Is that not combat?" Fox replied, eyebrow raised. "Battles fought in the court may be bloodless, but they are no less fierce, and although a man's life may not be endangered, his pride, his honour, and his power are ever laid bare."

Ferré tilted his glass in a salute. "You are correct, Mr Fox. Perhaps I should instead say I am not trained in arms. As you say, the court is full of intrigue. Are you involved in the court, as well as the forces?"

Fox shook his head. "Neither, Baron Ferré. I am acquainted in arms and military traditions out of respect; I am no soldier, but any man of decency and honour is a warrior, and the ways of a warrior are the ways of a gentleman. Courtesy, respect, discipline – all are valuable legacies of our culture, integral to our identity, and models for our future. As for the court, well, no matter what one's battlefield, it is always wise to know one's enemy; 'through understanding lies victory'."

Avoiding the scrutiny of those at the table – and where the crowd had overheard – he elegantly sorted through what he had filled his plate with while he had been talking. Sampling Theril sweetmeats, marinated in something fruity and evenly spiced, he nodded to the Kahn. "Compliments to the chef, il'Khan. The marinade is beautiful, and the meat; so tender. He is a treasure to have in your employ."

Chimaera smiled. "Indeed; pretty much the only reason I put up with his vile temper. Everything must be just so, and mercy on any that considers standing in his way to perfection."

"Aren't all the best chefs so, though?" Fox pointed out. "To settle for the best, one must settle for the rest."

The Kahn nodded. "You have hit upon the crux of the matter I believe, and not just with chefs. You have quite an experience with the world, I perceive."

"I keep my eyes and ears open; moreover, I consider what they tell me." It was an answer, if not to the particular question, but it was not a denial either. He knew the part of the game he must play, as did the Kahn, and by the expressions on the other side of the table, they were winning easily. Admittedly, it helped that they created the rules.

They finished their meals with chatter of mildly inconsequential, confusion evident on Nevel & Ferré as Fox & Chimaera bantered like old friends, Fox putting forward various impressive insights. The two advisors were obviously trying to fathom Fox' exact placing within the administration, and just as obviously failing miserably.

"If you are not a swordsman, one wonders if you partake in the odd game of Chess?" Fox asked the Baron. Duelling with the General would win him some regard, but Ferré was not one to respect swordsmanship, and Fox didn't have the time or inclination to build influence throughout the court through playing at the Baron's own silly games. He really needed something much quicker, if not much easier.

"Naturally," Ferré replied, looking surprised. "Do you also play?"

"Any gentleman should play," Fox said with the slightest smile. "It is a valuable testing ground for tactical thought and strategy – both military and court minds can be honed with movement of the pieces. Perhaps we may have a game later?"

The Baron inclined his head. "It would be a pleasure." Expectations of an easy game were evident in his voice, but Fox was unconcerned. It was usually the most confident that were the most complacent.

For a while after the meal they talked amongst; the Kahn and Jane were in close conversation, and Fox probed the General for tales of his exploits. Nevel had been a sub-commander in the Theril Retaliation, earning many promotions until the previous Marshal-General retired in favour of the junior officer.

Ferré slipped away early on; "Affairs of court, you understand," he excused himself.

Inevitably, as the evening gave way to night, the dancing floor steadily increased its activity, and Jane was showing signs of cool reticence. In the pause after the General detailing the fall of Halit, Fox broached again the subject of their duel. The General nodded, and at a nod from the Kahn, stood.

"Do you have a sword of your own, Delphi, or shall I have one fetched?"

Fox shook his head. "I didn't expect I would require one in my stay in the palace, and have not earned the right to wear a blade by default."

The Kahn stood before the General could reply, and drew his own blade. "Here, my friend; use mine." He extended the sword hilt first across the table. Fox accepted it with a bow.

"You honour me, il'Kahn. I shall reflect that honour in its use. General; shall we clear a space in the dancing floor? Who shall announce us?"

"I shall take care of that," the Kahn assured. As a group they proceeded to the half of the dancing floor closest to their table. "How much space do you think necessary?" he asked the duellists.

"Half the floor should suffice, with plenty of room to manoeuvre. I doubt many will still be dancing when we begin," Fox said with a straight face – almost. He always did enjoy making a scene.

The Kahn raised his voice and announced "some additional entertainment for the evening," causing rather a stir as the two armed opponents faced each other, separated by two metres. The crowd backed away to the edge of the floor as the Kahn motioned them away, standing himself in the very centre of the floor with Jane. "Marshal-General Nevel Rider versus Delphi Fox, Delphi City Garrison Champion." Jane gasped as Fox nodded slightly; trust the Kahn to know everything.

"Gentlemen, you may begin when ready."

The duellists raised their blades to foreheads in formal respect, then settled into defensive positions.

The General struck first, sliding forward with his back-foot in a smooth lunge. Fox dodged to his left, allowing the blade to pass over his right shoulder, turning his twist into a roll diagonally forward, slashing sideways at the General's formerly unprotected flank, as Nevel rolled to his right to avoid the blow, twisting in a slash of his own. Fox straightened and blocked low at the blade that was aimed at where his head had been, his blade sliding with a steely ring along Nevel's, his hilt catching on the General's. The fight was joined.

To the cries of dismay at near misses, amazement at skilled parries, and groans in sympathy as Fox replied to a joint-hilt block with a blow from his off-hand to the General's sword-arm, loosening his hold and allowing Fox to twist to Nevel's off-side and level what would be a finishing blow. Nevel recovered quickly, however, and was just able to block again with his hilt, but he was in a poor position to defend. His foot swept around, however, and Fox had to delay his next attack to avoid being levelled. He spun away from the blow and set himself once more.

The fight raged for a few minutes more, neither gaining a significant advantage, as Nevel backed off, raising his blade in a call for a break. Fox raised his in acknowledgement, then relaxed. Opponents stared at each other, chests heaving with exertion.

"You fight well, General," Fox praised.

"As do you, young man," Nevel replied. He winced as he moved his sword-hand. "I didn't expect that."

Fox smiled thinly. "I know." He didn't need to add that that was precisely why he'd struck so.

"Garrison Champion?" the General half-queried, reiterating the Kahn's introduction.

Fox nodded. "Last year. They tried to keep it low profile, as I was an outsider – they allow a few non-soldiers to compete, no doubt to show their superiority."

"You showed them, though," Nevel said with a grin. "I was the Champion last year for the city," he confided.

Fox nodded again. "That doesn't surprise me. You are a formidable opponent. Shall we proceed?"

They saluted each other again and continued. Refreshed, the first blows were aggressive, but they soon settled as it was clear neither had yet an advantage in strength. Indeed, the ring of steel wasn't heard as often this round, as the duellists dodged into position rather than parry, dancing around each other on the floor. It was soon clear why Fox had wanted to commandeer so much space – they still approached the edges of the crowd on more then one occasion.

The end came when they passed near the wall; Fox dodged a blow that would have split his head like a melon by dropping low to the floor, knees bent and hands behind him. Quicker than many could follow, he kicked up with one foot, twisting the other for leverage. The kick caught the General square on his centre of mass, driving him back and off balance – into the wall.

Following through on his twist, and using the rebound from his kick, Fox swiftly spun himself upright and forward, his sword blurring to a halt inches from the General's neck. Nevel's sword lay at his feet, having fallen from his hand when he had struck the wall. He was breathing uneasily – clearly the blow had winded him.

"I yield," he gasped, and Fox withdrew his sword, moving to steady the older man.

"I'd apologise for kicking you so hard, but it was rather necessary, you understand," he sympathised.

"Oh, quite alright, Delphi; I should have seen it coming," Nevel replied, gaining his breath back. Fox bent and retrieved the officer's sword. Waving off the younger man's supporting arm, Nevel straightened. "So, I suppose you'll hold me to our wager?"

Fox nodded. "It's not so much a punishment for losing; its for your own good, really. You might wish to wait a while to recover, though – and maybe shower." They both laughed; each was sweating heavily from their efforts, and would make no woman a desirable partner.

The Kahn looked impressed, and Jane openly amazed, as the duellists moved to stand before him. Fox returned the ruler's sword, and Chimaera held it before him, his gaze evaluating. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor; Delphi Fox!" Cheers resounded throughout the hall. "It is also my delight to make it known that these two had a small wager on the outcome; our good Marshal-General, as the loser, must now dance one full round with a woman of his choosing – after he cleans himself up, obviously." Laughs and jeers sounded from the crowd; it was obviously well known that the General did not usually partake in dances.

"As for the winner," the Kahn continued, the hall falling silent. "I present to Mr Fox the sword with which he gained this victory; my sword in fact." Gasps from the crowd, and a flicker of amazement across Fox' expression before he masked it. "I should point out that he did not ask for this, or any prize, but such is the honour he deserves that I present this blade to him to be an heirloom of his house." He hefted the sword in his hands. "And a jolly good sword, too," he added, to a few chuckles. He presented the sword to Fox, who knelt to receive it.

Rising, Fox thrust the blade into the air. "Gladly do I accept this undeserved royal gift," he said boldly and clearly. "It shall ever be a treasure in the halls of my children – should I ever have any," he added.

The crowd laughed and dispersed as they moved from the floor. Jane did not look happy, but Fox had no time to be concerned with her just yet – he really needed a wash. "If you could excuse me for a while, I might get Karl to show me back to my rooms for a shower."

Chimaera nodded. "A good idea; you might find yourself quite unaccompanied otherwise."

Retreating back to his rooms, Fox showered and changed into another of the fancier suits – sans the jacket – in a blue to match Jane's dress.

On returning to the hall, he was greeted with quite an enthusiastic reception; the General had already returned and was dancing with one of the older court beauties – Fox found himself accosted by more than a few younger 'ladies', all begging for the opportunity to dance, at the least. Rather than refuse so many, he simply did not reply, instead walking straight along the crimson strip of carpet to the raised platform. The Kahn was enjoying a dance with an admirer, and Jane was sitting rather disconsolately alone.

"My lady?" he said, standing behind her chair. Glancing around, she stood to face him, her face a mystery – to those in the crowd, at least.

"I couldn't bring myself to throw the duel for the pleasure of a dance; the General's need was greater than mine. But, even though I won, I don't suppose you'd accept a few dances with me regardless?" He even kept a straight face, looking at her as if pleading.

She appeared to consider it. "Well, I have had many other offers..," she began, then noticed the agitation of a large number of court 'ladies' in a track back toward the stairs. "As have you, it would appear. It would be my pleasure," she accepted smugly. Accepting his arm, they moved to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7: Family

Some time later, Jane lay on her bed, unable to sleep. Her mind was troubled by the decision she had to make; to leave the continent, possibly for good – or to watch her best friend sail away. Would her absence doom him like her uncle thought?

Delphi relished in the comfort of the regal appearing chair in his reception, reading one of the favourite books that he'd brought from home. A knock sounded on the door. "Come," he said absently. He hadn't sent for anyone, but was even more surprised when Jane nervously pushed open the door, obviously agitated. Snapping the book shut, he stood and moved to her. "What's wrong?"

Jane closed the door behind her as Delphi advanced, obviously concerned. "Nothing," she said at first.

"Much," he finished, looking down at her. "Come on, sit down," he said, ushering her to one of the chairs and stood behind her, gently massaging her neck. She relaxed, feeling tension slipping away. Some of it.

"Delphi, do you want me to leave with you?" she asked suddenly. Might as well get it out in the open. She felt his hands stop, and he moved around the chair to crouch in front of her, his gaze intent.

"Is that what's bothering you?"

"Do you?" she repeated; this was one question he was not going to be able to evade.

He sighed and looked down at his hands clasped in front of him. "I don't know. For you, I don't want you to give up everything you have at home, in Delphi, especially for some half-mad adventure over the oceans. But for me?" He looked up, gazing boring straight into her eyes. "For me, I don't want to leave you behind. I would like you to come with me, Jane, but if you don't, I'll understand."

He looked away again and closed his eyes. "I had thought that if you weren't going to come, I'd stay here as well – your uncle can find someone else to lead this expedition. But he's right, I probably have the best chance of making it work – and that's fact, not ego." He looked back at her, pain evident in his eyes. "Much as I'd prefer otherwise, I can't just think of what I want – your uncle's nailed me in place. And, well, you have responsibilities back home, as the next governor, should you wish it."

"I could also help you as governor of the new city," she added, trying to divert his thought.

"Did your uncle tell you that?" he asked. "Yes, you could help me – and I'd certainly appreciate it – but so can any advisor the Kahn chooses. Don't let your responsibility decide – my hands may be tied, but I pretty much did the knots myself. Yours aren't – on any side of the ocean. What it comes to, Jane, is whether you want to leave or not. And I don't think that's really something I can help you with – it's got to be your decision, without my bias."

She nodded slowly. She'd guessed what he'd say, almost word for word – except for wanting to stay with her if she didn't go, that had come as a surprise. Her eyes narrowed. "You'd considered not going if I didn't?" she asked.

He looked uncomfortable. "That's right."

"Why?" she asked directly.

He definitely looked uncomfortable now. "Well, because, I, well, didn't want to leave without you."

"Why?" she asked again – she wanted a proper answer, not one of his clever half-answered evasions.

"Because I didn't really like the idea of not seeing you, or hearing from you, for years on end, or forever." His answer came easier that time, though he almost choked a bit on the last.

"Why?" she asked once more after a pause, her voice softer this time.

"Because I love you, that's why!" he burst out, finally breaking. Rising, he spun and walked to the window. "What else did you expect?" He leaned his hands against the wall astride the window, head slumped against the glass. He looked defeated.

Standing, Jane walked softly over to stand behind him. "Say that again?" she asked softly. "Please?"

He straightened, turned, and looked her straight in the eyes. "I love you," he repeated softly. He looked about to say more, but Jane silenced him with a kiss, her hands sliding around his neck. He was surprised at first, but soon responded, snaking his arms around her waist.

Breaking the kiss, both breathing heavily, Jane looked at Fox. "That's all I wanted to hear," she told him, "the truth; not another of your infuriating dodging answers." At least he had the good grace to look guilty. She kissed him again. "But I love you anyway." She rested her head against his chest. "I don't want to leave you, either," she murmured.

His only reply was a gentle tightening of his embrace; she knew he wouldn't answer – he didn't want to pressure her decision. She was of two minds about that; it was considerate, leaving the choice up to her, but it would be so much easier if he would just insist she go with him – but she understood why he would not. It was her dilemma alone; even though it did affect him, she knew he would abide by whatever decision she made.

Unable to stop herself, she started crying softly. "I don't want to decide," she sobbed. "I don't want to go, I don't want to stay; I just don't know."

"Then don't," he said softly, gently rubbing her back. "Don't decide, not now."

She didn't answer, her mind a blur. He held her in silence until her tears had subsided.

"Come on," he said gently, "it's late; you should get some sleep." He started to move toward the door to the common room.

She stopped him by grabbing his hand. He looked down, surprised, and she looked back up at him, a mix of determination and plaintive longing on her face. "I don't want to be alone tonight," she said, her voice resolute, but quietly questioning, half fearing that he might refuse her. She moved her free hand up to gently caress his cheek. He nodded, his gaze evaluating and intense, then moved in to kiss her again.

Delphi woke to find her still in his arms. He studied her face in the morning light, etching every beautiful detail forever in his mind. Gently, she stirred, and sleepily met his loving gaze.

"Hey," she said softly, kissing him, then nuzzling into his neck.

"Hey yourself," he said, gently kissing her forehead. A thought struck him; not a new thought, but one with new relevance, realising that he had never been happier, more content, than he was right that moment. "Jane?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, fully awake now.

"Will you be my wife?" It came out as a bit of a rush, so he tried it again, "Will you marry m..?" He was cut off as she kissed him passionately.

"Yes," she whispered.

Much later, after a relaxing bath and a memorable shower, Delphi rang for Karl; he had remembered to mention his wish to be shown around, and the ruler had consented to take Karl off his other duties for the day. Fox had expected to sleep in anyway, though certainly not anything else that had occurred, and so had told the attendant to indulge in a lie-in as well – it was only a couple of hours shy of midday when Fox finally rang.

The attendant gave them the complete tour of the palace and its grounds; although Jane had visited before, she had by no means been able to explore everywhere. They drew a fair amount of attention, and a few whispers of "champion" and the like showed that word of Fox' victorious duel the previous night had spread.

Karl saved showing them the throne room until last; the impressive hall in which the Kahn held court "whenever he hadn't a good enough excuse not to," according to Jane. Karl wisely said nothing to that, but the smile said it all.

It also turned out that Jane had a plan, devious, naturally, but once Delphi learnt of it, he was not in the least perturbed. Indeed, he'd thought of the same himself. At an opportune moment they had themselves announced at the door, silencing the hall as they approached the throne.

"Greetings, my dear, my friend, so nice of you to drop past," the Kahn welcomed them.

"We just thought we'd drop by after being shown around. It really is a lovely day outside," Jane teased.

Her uncle shot her a withering look. "How considerate of you. Delphi, you didn't come here just to torture me, did you?"

"No, though I might have if I'd thought of it first," he said with a laugh. "Actually, I have an announcement I'd like to make." At that, the court hushed, though the Kahn did not appear surprised. "This morning, your niece, the beautiful Lady Pilat, accepted my proposal of marriage. I thought you might be interested to know."

There was a great deal of whispering throughout the crowd. "I take it he's telling the truth, my dear?" he asked Jane. She nodded, beaming. "Then I congratulate you both; we'll have to schedule a royal wedding. Next week I think; that should give you plenty of time to prepare, and for your families to arrive from Delphi. Any sooner might be a touch impractical."

Jane curtseyed, and Delphi bowed. "I expect you're right, much though I'd like it tomorrow, much needs to be arranged. By your leave."

The Kahn, nodded, waving them away regally. "Enjoy the sunshine. Maybe I should hold court outside in summer. See you for dinner."

They nodded and withdrew.

Completing their tour of the palace that afternoon, they then proceeded out into the city. Primarily, Delphi had heard of a show his brother, Tarin, was overseeing, and thought he might drop past for a look. Jane was just as interested; she'd hardly met Delphi's brother before, though he mentioned him often.

The theatre in the Palace district was something of an innovation. As a whole, the building was essentially a large cylinder seated vertically, though was in fact a multi-sided polygon as opposed to a circle. Beneath it's expansive roof was a large auditorium with floor seating and three layers of balconies, seating approximately 50,000 people when full. It was a marvel of modern engineering, and an artistic triumph, and Delphi took particular pride in that his brother had been a strong driving force behind its conception.

Karl was known as an attendant at the palace, and after brief introductions, they were allowed swift entry into the premises, a messenger running off to inform Tarin of his brother's arrival.

They moved through the main foyer, toward the grand doors at the end that led to the floor seating. Those doors swung heavily open when they were still some metres from it, and a sturdily built man of average height emerged. His shock of light brown hair capped a face that, although not particularly similar to Delphi's, Jane thought it eerily familiar through some of the expressions.

"Delphi, you scoundrel!" Tarin boomed, moving forward and extending his hand.

"How are you, you old rogue?" Delphi asked his brother as they shook. There was only a small difference in age between them, but Delphi took all the shots he could. If he didn't, Tarin still would – tenfold.

"Overworked, under-appreciated, as usual," Tarin grunted sourly. "Got a major performance to set up for, and they have no idea what it involves, but keep insisting on butting their stupid bloody heads in where they're not capable." He shook his head, then noticed Jane. "Sorry, my lady," he apologised, "but my tongue runs away with me when I'm under pressure."

Jane smiled understandingly. "Quite alright; I'm used to it from being around your brother a great deal."

Delphi nodded sagely as his brother laughed. "I'm sorry, I believe some introductions are in order. Jane, this is my brother, Tarin, as you no doubt guessed. What is your exact title, Tarin? I can never remember?"

Tarin grunted. "Administrator of Idiots, it seems most often, but officially it's Royal Entertainment Engineer. Some prissy idiot at court deals with whoever wants to put a show on here, and they give me the details of what's required for me to set up the props and the environment. Then I've got to try to wrench some order and organisation out of the head-cases whose show it is, and see if I can't get everyone's feet pointing the same way."

"As you can see, he doesn't suffer fools gladly," Delphi said to no-one in particular.

"Oh, I suffer all right," Tarin rebutted, "But I make sure they suffer at least as much." He clenched his fists suggestively. "Anyway, brother, who's the pretty girl?"

"Ah, well this is Jane Pilat, my best friend from back home, and just recently my fiancée," Delphi said smoothly as if it was of no consequence. He quite enjoyed watching his brother's expression move from nodding a greeting to looking at him as if he was crazy.

"You're getting married? What have you done to my brother?" he said accusingly.

Delphi just shrugged. "Yeah, I know I always was an advocate of lifelong bachelor-hood, but hey, she's worth it, wouldn't you agree?" he said, indicating Jane.

"You're damn right she is," Tarin agreed, looking her up and down appraisingly. "Pity you got to her first," he joked appraisingly.

"Oi, none of that," Delphi warned, "Or you'll be getting a taste of what you administer to your crew."

Tarin mock-winced as he laughed, then motioned for them to follow him through the doors, nodding recognition at Karl. "Psilum; good to see they still let you out of that palace from time to time."

"Not often," Karl said, "but one takes what opportunity is available. I'm Head Attendant now."

"Well done indeed," Tarin said admirably. "Shine the Kahn's own shoes, do you?" His opinion of Karl's job was justifiably low.

"On occasion," Karl admitted. "I polished your brothers when he arrived – his good pair, that is."

Tarin grunted. "You mean better pair; he doesn't have a good anything, really – you stole that suit, didn't you?" he jibed at his brother, referring to another of the formal suits out of the wardrobe that Delphi had acquired that morning.

Delphi just shrugged. "It was in the wardrobe, and it fit; what more encouragement does a man need? You and Karl know each other, then?"

Tarin nodded as they moved down the main aisle toward the stage. "He was a novice here a few years ago; I was in charge of him. He wasn't too bad a worker." He looked back at Karl. "Why don't you come back here; you weren't the best, but you're a damn sight better worker than every other moron I command now."

Karl smiled but shook his head. "Attendant pays better," he confided. "And I get free food and board at the palace; what more could a man want?"

Tarin grunted sourly. "Typical."

Jane remained silent, only half noticing the exchange as she looked around in amazement at the inside of the theatre. It was vast. The stage, half set-up for some play or other, was a hive of activity. "When will the show finish?" she asked innocently, looking around still at the enormous viewer capacity.

"It's a one night only performance," Tarin spat. "All this fuss for a single bloody night, two days away, and then we got to bring it all down. One day off then set up for the next one – runs for a week though, so at least it's worthwhile. Why do you ask?"

"I think I found a venue for the wedding," she said, looking sidelong at Delphi, whose eyes widened momentarily, looking around at the capacity.

"Well, it'll certainly be a big occasion. I'm sure your uncle would give us the throne room, though."

"I'm sure he would, but I want it here – I don't think it's been done before, has it Tarin?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am, it hasn't. No-one could afford it just for a wedding, though if your uncle agrees then I don't see a problem."

"Just how many guest were you expecting," Delphi asked. "I was thinking just the families; nothing on this sort of scale. Jane, we don't know this many people!"

"Oh, I don't want to fill the place," she explained admonishingly. "Only the floor seating. I'm sure there'll be enough well-wishers – my uncle will be here, so most of the court is likely to turn up just for the occasion."

A gleam appeared in Tarin's eye. "It's customary for every guest that attends to bring a gift, is it not?"

Jane nodded. "Otherwise they can be refused entry for not respecting the couple."

Delphi couldn't help but smile. "I don't suppose it matters, but where would we put everything?"

Jane waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, we'll find room; I'm sure my uncle will look after whatever our parents can't find room for, once we've chosen what we want to keep."

Delphi nodded. "Decided then. There's only one small problem." She looked at him quizzically. "I don't have a single thing to wear, don't you know," he explained, feigning dismay.

They laughed and continued toward the stage, where Tarin was more than happy to explain the show they were setting up for. It didn't appear to be a performance that particularly piqued Delphi's interest – a point which Tarin agreed with, but he got paid by the job, regardless of quality; an understandable attitude given what he had to regularly put up with.

"What sort of things would you change about the venue if you could?" Delphi asked his brother, who immediately launched into a detailed description of what the auditorium would be like had he been actually in charge of designing it. As it was, he'd put forward the prospect of such a grand arena, but been summarily ignored when it came to design.

"All this stuff," he said, indicating the various grand statues and decorations placed around the galleries, "looks awful fancy – or just awful, if you ask me – but it plays hell with the acoustics, and really, who notices them when the show's on? They're pointless!"

"And what about the roof; do you prefer that or open-aired auditoriums?" Jane asked.

Tarin shrugged. "Not too worried, personally – shaped as it is, you don't have problems with the sound escaping as much, and a roof – when it's done properly – can be useful for hangings. Not this one though – it's far too flimsy. I prefer the feel of open-air though, speaking personally. Not so stuffy to work in. Weather can be a problem though."

"How about underground?" Delphi put forward. "If you were to excavate an area and furnish it like this, as if it were a structure – what do you think of that?"

Tarin regarded his brother strangely. "What have you been drinking? You always did have nutty ideas. That's not such a bad one though. The work of excavation would be about the same as if you constructed it, and you wouldn't need to worry so much about stability – so long as you aren't on any fault lines. You'd be able to make a stronger roof as well, since you wouldn't have so many support issues. Even canvas on rails would keep the weather out."

Delphi nodded. "That's more or less along the lines that I was thinking," he admitted.

"Why do ask?" Tarin asked curiously. "You having one built for yourself in your back garden?"

Delphi nodded. "Something like that. Have you heard the rumours about an expedition to establish a second Gaian nation across the Eastern Ocean?"

Tarin nodded. "I've heard that you proposed it."

"Correct," Delphi admitted. "And the Kahn recently confirmed it – that's why I'm staying at the palace. More to point, he's placed me in charge of it."

Tarin's eyes widened. "Whoa, aren't you the lucky and important one all of a sudden. Commanding a major expedition; marrying the Kahn's niece – have you bought a lottery ticket yet?"

Delphi smiled. "No, I'm saving my luck for the voyage. We might need it."

"You didn't just say that 'we' by accident, did you," Tarin probed. "You want me to come with you. Why? What do I know about establishing a nation?"

"No more than I do, quite likely," Delphi said, spreading his hands, then gesturing around at the venue. "But you do know your job, probably better than any other. How would you like to design and see the construction of an auditorium such as we've just theorised; an excavated arena, simple, utilitarian, dedicated to its purpose. I can promise your opinions won't be ignored this time – but you will be able to ignore any that you don't like."

"Unless it's made by you, I'm sure."

"Why would I tell you how to do something that you understand infinitely more than I do?" Delphi countered matter-of-factly. "You should know better than that."

"True," Tarin admitted. "But I'll be sure to remind you that you said that if you try."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Delphi agreed. "So long as you don't dismiss it out of hand – I do have good ideas occasionally, you know – whether I know what I'm talking about or not."

"Yeah, you over-clever little bastard. You sure know how to bait someone, though, don't you?"

Delphi smiled. "Jane taught me everything I know. Thank her, not me; it's amazing what you can learn from women – especially one with authority." He gave Jane a smile as he said it to show he didn't mean it scathingly.

She returned it with one of her own. "We all learn from each other – like how to evade questions instead of giving straight answers."

Delphi put his hand to his chest. "Touché; you shoot well, my lady." He grinned at her. "It's just that straight answers are never properly correct, that's all."

"Sure," she said sceptically, "Whatever."

He sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "Why doesn't anyone understand me," he said mournfully.

"Oh, I think they do," Tarin disagreed. "You're right, of course, but you only do it because it's annoying; you know that."

Delphi gave him a pained look. "Now, that's not a very nice thing to say, brother."

"It's true though."

"Well, yes, partly, but you don't need to come right out and say it like that, do you?"

Tarin looked long and hard at his brother as he grinned like an idiot, then turned to regard Jane. "You are a very brave, or a very foolish woman, to agree to spend the rest of your life putting up with him." He extended his hand, bending over semi-formally when she took it. "But I wish you the best of luck regardless."

She blushed and moved to hold Delphi's hand. "Oh, he's not so bad," she said as her fiancée leaned to kiss her on the cheek. "But, thank you anyway."

Tarin shrugged. "You're part of the family now, or soon will be; it's the least I can do."

"You know what, my dear?" Delphi asked her.

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me," she replied teasingly.

"I think we need to find my brother a wife."

Tarin looked horrified at the suggestion while Jane looked at him thoughtfully. "Perhaps; who'd want him though?" she teased the older man.

"Hey, if Delphi can find someone crazy enough to take him, I'm sure I'm in with at least as good a chance," he protested.

"We'll see."

"I'm sure we can find someone," Delphi stuck up for his sibling. "If we can get her drunk enough," he added.

"Was she drunk when you proposed?" Tarin asked, pointing at Jane.

"No, not drunk," he admitted, squeezing her hand lightly, making her blush. She hadn't been, it was true, but the circumstances had been rather particular. "In point of fact, she may as well have proposed to me."

"I did not," she denied. "You asked me."

"But that was more or less what you'd wanted when you came to me last night, wasn't it?"

She blushed as the other men looked around them, pretending not to be listening. "Well, yes, but..," she trailed off as he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her again.

"It's okay my dear, I still love you."

"I should certainly hope so," she murmured, returning his kiss.

"What's the matter, Tarin, Karl?" Delphi asked unabashedly as he straightened. "Let's go see what you get up to backstage, shall we?"

"What a tremendous idea," Karl muttered.

Their tour of the backstage was soon completed, and since the balconies really didn't interest them that much, they decided they'd return to the palace, via the market. Tarin was pleased to accept their invitation to dinner that evening, chafing a bit when Delphi suggested he wear something formal and presentable.

"Why should I?" he demanded. "No-one will be noticing me anyway."

"You may be surprised," Delphi said. "Please, we'll be dining with the Kahn, and I'd really rather you weren't a total embarrassment."

They left him grumbling away to himself and headed toward the market to see what was on offer.

Dinner that evening was relatively uneventful; no-one but the Kahn and Tarin sat with them at the raised table, and the conversation tended toward Tarin's occupation, leading to an elaboration on his visions and plans for a new auditorium in the new nation's capital. The Kahn was quite impressed at the thoughts Tarin and Delphi put forward in this regard, and a bit chagrined that the designers of the Gaia auditorium had not listened to Tarin's suggestions more closely.

The Kahn's worries about who to replace Tarin was met by the simple "That's someone else's problem, not mine," though he did then proceed to mention a few of the more reliable of his crew. He may freely admit that it wasn't his concern, but there was no doubt that he'd put considerable thought into it regardless.

Jane's plans for the wedding came to no evident surprise on her uncle's part, though there were quite a number of surprised and envious glances when he announced the details later in the night. This particular Kahn was to be long remembered for his extravagance pertaining to people he took an especial liking to.


	8. Chapter 8: The Baron

The next day Jane was busy with wedding particulars and the like; Delphi left them up to her on the premise that if she took care of the details, then there would be a much greater chance of it being just the way she wanted it. Delphi was more enthusiastic about the concept of being married to her than about the ceremony itself, but then women tended to lend more importance to occasion, so he just went with it.

He had remembered the previous night that he had intended to challenge the Baron Ferré at a chess match – the more respect he could get from the powerful man, the less opposition he hoped to face once the plans for the expedition, and just who was commanding it, came to light. He didn't know exactly where the Baron's residence was, but he did know it was in the River District, to the West of the palace. Strapping on his sword belt, just in case, he left the palace compound and turned downhill toward the river.

As it turned out, it might have been better to ask directions from the guardsmen. The houses became older, the streets seedier, and his formal attire stood out much more than he would have wished. It was definitely noticed, and not by the right kinds of people.

Striding down a thin street, nearing the river, two men stepped out on an adjoining alley and stood blocking the way. They drew their swords – plain, and of poor workmanship, but Delphi knew very well that a bad sword would kill as quick as the best.

"A noble should know better than to pass this way without guard," Left said, sneering.

As Delphi stepped out of the half-shadow of the building, Right quailed slightly. "Hey, he's the one who beat that General night before last."

Left kept his sneer, unperturbed. "Fancy footwork against an old man," he dismissed. "He's still only one against two, and he's bound to have riches. Give them up or we'll take them off your corpse."

Delphi laughed throatily. "Fools. Nothing I hold is worth your lives. But come, I could do with some exercise. Let's get this over with." He sounded supremely more confident than he felt, but that's what counted – he could see Right was having doubts. "Flee now or deal with the consequences," he allowed, not expecting it to make a difference. It didn't.

Snarling, Left advanced, and with a quick glance at his partner, Right followed suit, albeit nervously.

"Worth a try," Delphi muttered to himself for no apparent reason, drawing the sword formerly of the Kahn. He set himself, letting the others approach. Left lunged first, then Right, hoping to catch him on the second blade as he dodged the first blow. Instead, he backed off a step, giving himself room.

Slipping under their outstretched blades, their arms foolishly fully extended – they'd staked almost everything on catching him on their first pass – he twisted toward Left, grabbing his sword wrist in a pincer grip and pulled it with him as he spun behind the man. Left yelped in pain as his limb was twisted in a most unnatural position, his sword clattering to the ground. Delphi struck him a solid blow with the bejewelled hilt of the royal sword and he crumpled to the ground.

Meanwhile, Right swung in a vain attempt to stop Delphi dealing with his accomplice, and almost succeeded in fatally catching Left with his sword as he fell. Pulling back, he looked fearfully at Delphi over the unconscious form of Left, sprawled between them. Keeping his flat gaze on his opponent, Delphi bent his knees and swept up Left's sword in his off-hand, holding it loosely.

"Run now and you get to live," Fox growled, his voice filled with impending doom. Jumping slightly, Right cowered and ran off the way Delphi had approached. Tucking the lesser sword into his belt, Fox sheathed his blade and continued onward, cursing his lack of forethought in travelling alone – and without even thinking to ask the way! Jane would slap him silly if she found out about it, he was sure.

Shaking himself alert – where there was one set of rogues, there was bound to be more – he strode onwards toward the river, and was relieved when the houses started to appear more affluent, the streets cleaner, and watchmen on the occasional corner. This time he asked for further directions to Ferré's residence, and was pleased to note that while his chosen route may leave much to be desired, he had in fact been moving in the right direction; the Baron's manor was only a couple of blocks further down the street.

As his destination came into view, he noted that if he hadn't felt rattled and desired reassurance after his encounter with the thieves, he wouldn't have required directions – there might as well have been an immense sign indicating the mansion, with the caption "most pompous jackass".

In stark contrast to even the moderately well off houses in the surrounds, the Baron's residence was a three story, well, mansion was the only apt term, surrounded by a high wall. Entry was granted through a highly ornamental – and thoroughly practically useless – gate, designed steelwork providing easy access to even an unskilled climber. Both the house and walls were sheathed in marble, and the windows of the highest floor were stained in decorative emblems.

Delphi could not help but smile at the outrageous display of ostentation, but wisely concealed his joviality from the guards at the gate, solemnly introducing himself and enquiring if the Baron was in. He set himself to wait patiently while a messenger was sent inside. The man soon returned, whispered to the commander on duty, and Fox was admitted.

Striding up the ornately tiled path to the engraved heavy wooden door, his smiled threatened to return as he tried to imagine the self-important Baron kneeling on a cushion and working in the exquisitely maintained garden. A butler greeted him on the doorstep and ushered him inside.

The foyer was impressive, Delphi supposed, were he the type of person easily impressed by carved marble or granite sculptures of famous persons of history. He supposed that the house's owner includes such figures to place themselves amongst their company; he was amused to see a bust of Jane's maternal great-grandfather, Karl Pilat. The very idea that Ferré could compare to one who had made a sacrifice of himself and his forces to win the safety of thousands was mind-boggling. The Baron would easily be the first to flee on his finest horse, Delphi was willing to bet heavily.

"Ah, Mr Fox," the Baron's distinctive called down from the next level. Speak of the devil, Delphi thought, approaching slowly the sweeping staircase that the Baron descended.

"Baron Ferré," he greeted the other. "I thought I would drop by on the chance you might find time for that chess game I proposed."

The Baron inclined his head. "Indeed; I had thought to invite you yesterday, but I imagine you were otherwise occupied with more important matters. Congratulations on your upcoming ceremony; I hear it is to be held in the Grand Auditorium?"

"Jane's idea," Delphi explained. "You know how women are about ceremony, I'm sure."

"Very much so," Ferré sympathised. "Where we would be content with a quiet, more informal matter, they tend toward the ostentatious. This," he said, gesturing at the grand entrance hall, "was all my late wife's design, you may be interested to know. She always was one for overwhelming effect."

Delphi began to re-evaluate the Baron – presuming he was being truthful. More likely, he and his wife had agreed on the architecture more or less equally, but he was not about to question him about it.

"Indeed," he instead said with interest. "I noticed you keep a tidy garden also. Also your wife's idea, or you tend to it yourself?"

"Both, actually," the Baron replied, gesturing Delphi to follow him down a small corridor to his right. "She wanted it planted; she loved tending to her mother's in their home before our marriage, and didn't much enjoy court proceedings. She would garden during the day, then relax in the evenings one I finished work. I used to be Chancellor at the palace, but once my wife passed away, I resigned to a lesser posting. Now I do indeed look after the garden myself, when I am able, though I hire someone to tend what I am unable."

They entered an open-aired atrium adjoining what appeared to be a study. Strong and healthy roses of mixed varieties bordered the paths crossing the plain tiles; a stone table such as that on Delphi's balcony was the centrepiece, a wall-like bench surrounding it at a comfortable sitting distance. Etched into its surface were the black and white checks of a chess board, the pieces sitting in carved niches set into the squares.

"I concentrate my attention to these," the Baron continued, indicating the roses, standing before the table. "Various species; some of them I've combined to make unique."

Delphi nodded, genuinely amazed. Creature of the court Ferré may be, or have been – he wasn't too sure on that count any more – but underneath lurked a form almost of normality. "Commendable," he said admiringly, "and I much love the innovation of the board; I may just duplicate in my own residence one day, if I may?"

"By all means, my dear chap; I don't covet it for my own. Besides," he added with a smile, "records will show which was constructed first."

"The board in the palace of the Halite monarch, I believe, though yours is the first Gaian incidence," Delphi said, remembering some piece of architectural history he had read or heard somewhere.

The Baron looked surprised. "Indeed it was," he admitted, "though it was sadly destroyed in the siege, I am told."

Fox nodded. "I believe so. A pity, as it was carved from a single block of granite, and inlaid..,"

"With finest quality ebony and ivory as the squares, yes you are correct," the Baron joined him in finishing, a smile broad on his face. "You know a great deal, Mr Fox; may I ask where you were educated?"

Delphi laughed. "Western Delphi public school; nothing special. But snippets of information have a way of making it into my memory, and sticking there."

"So I see," the Baron said admiringly. "Well, to the business of the game; which side do you play?"

"Whichever is decided," Delphi said, "I've always played through the rule of pawn's choice," he explained, referring to the practice of the hosting player palming a pawn of each colour and letting the other blindly choose at random.

The Baron nodded and picked a pawn in each hand, holding them behind his back, juggling them for a second. Delphi pointed at Ferré's left. The Baron held out his hand, a white pawn balanced on his palm. "You begin, Mr Fox." They took their seats on the corresponding ends of the table. "Let us now see if I can succeed where my father did not," he stated, indicating the portrait over the portal through which they had entered. A portrait depicting the Marshal-General.

"General Rider?" Delphi questioned.

"The same," the Baron said. "He took the name of Rider according to the ancient custom by which soldiers took the name of their service speciality."

Delphi nodded. "My grandfather took the name of Knight," he revealed, "Sorla Knight."

It was the Baron's turn to be surprised. "His name is known to me – known to most, I expect."

Delphi nodded once more. "Yes, though not so many know that after the Retaliation he renounced it as he resigned his commission. He did not choose to fight for the thrill of it as many believe – he knew many who had settled in Theril."

The Baron's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Indeed, that is not told. He was known to be an exemplary fighter, but the reasons behind were never clear. He was obviously not the kind to seek fame, for his story would surely have been recounted equally as well as that of Karl Pilat and his wife."

"Precisely why he did not; he was a simple carpenter who had no desire to be judged by anything other than the quality of his trade. Still; let us begin." He moved his king's pawn two spaces; the basic first move that could lead to a great many strategies.

The game was played in silence, with no interruptions. The occasional servant did appear at one or other of the portals, but left upon noticing the game in session. Either of the players stopped noticing even those minor details of their surrounds soon after commencing, the focus of their minds solely on the 64 squares before them.

It was a canny match on both sides, with a few gutsy gambles staked, and multi-piece stalemates instigated; hasty workarounds introduced as unforeseen holes were probed into strategies. The skill of the players prevented such elaborations as crowning pawns; just the pieces and their primary abilities.

Finally, Ferré found himself cornered by Delphi's knights and a sole rook. Neither his king nor his left rook had moved throughout; he'd ignored the opportunity to castle his king – the move that had quite possibly been the Baron's downfall.

Their eyes met for the first time since beginning. "A good game," Ferré said admiringly. "You have an interesting style – quite unparalleled, I'm sure."

Delphi smiled lightly, waving his hand as if to pass off the compliment. "Nonsense; I merely play according to what the pieces allow, reacting to each move as it is necessary."

"Oh, I think there's much more to it than that," the Baron disagreed. "How many moves did you have prepared in advance – four, maybe five? And how many possible reactions of mine did you evaluate?"

"Approximately four, depending on the situation, and all of them, naturally. Victory is often impossible if one doesn't evaluate all his opponent's possible responses; that's how one gets taken by surprise."

Ferré nodded. "It was certainly how I was surprised; I never expected you'd gamble your queen so – many regard that to be the most important piece."

"It is," Delphi agreed, "but that doesn't make it indispensable. One of its most powerful uses is both as a threat, and as bait. One needs to keep in mind all a piece's abilities when planning a tactic."

"Indeed," the Baron agreed. "Though may I say that your depth of mind is truly amazing?"

Delphi looked confused. "How so?"

"You say you kept in mind all my possible reactions?" Delphi nodded. "Of all my available pieces?" The younger man shook his head this time.

"Not all your available pieces – all of them completely. Even if I'd tied one up in a stalemate, I had to take into account the possibility that you might choose to sacrifice it, then respond in a different way than I had planned for."

Ferré pointed at Fox. "And that is exactly what I refer to, Mr Fox; you keep current in your mind quite an astounding number of variables – not something that everyone is capable of doing."

Delphi blushed. "Well, I've always been one to believe that anyone is capable of the same, but that could just be rationalising."

"Well, whatever is true, you are to be congratulated. An adept in both the sword and the board; that is quite notable indeed. I had thought that the intricacies of the game were more subtle and impassable than those of the sword, but it would appear I have much yet to learn."

Delphi nodded. "I would say that the truth lies somewhere between; the sword and the board are more similar than either you or your father realise, I think. Perhaps if you were to teach him the game, and you learn the sword from him, the skills may become quite complementary."

Ferré nodded thoughtfully. "You give me much to consider, Mr Fox. But may I ask a favour?"

"Of course."

"Please don't make me dance with anyone because I lost," he implored. "My footwork really leaves a great deal to be desired."

Delphi laughed. "Don't worry, I'll let you off from such a punishment. I only had that wager with Nevel because he was letting the grief from his wife keep him from enjoying the dance." He looked sharply at the Baron. "Your punishment, I think, will be to welcome a female gardener of your choice into your household, to help you tend your roses. I'm quite sure she would approve," he said, indicating the portrait of the woman that could only be the late Baroness, hanging above the far doorway, flanked by particularly fine rose bushes.

Ferré looked back down at the board, then back at Delphi. "Perhaps you are correct, Mr Fox. I trust you'll at least allow me time to consider?"

"Of course, my friend. Of course. One must find the right woman for the job, after all."

"And do you believe you have found yours?" the Baron asked, not quite unexpectedly.

Delphi nodded. "I have found the only woman for the job; right or wrong are not part of my particular situation. There has ever been only the one woman for my life."

"It would appear you answered correctly," Ferré observed, his glance not at Fox this time, but just over his shoulder. Delphi turned to see Jane standing in the doorway, eyes glistening.


	9. Chapter 9: Over The Sea

As they left the Baron's residence, Delphi's opinion of the man firmly shifted, Jane told of how she had finished quickly with the seamstresses and organisers – Tarin was organising much of the technicalities, and neither doubted his ability to get things right without their continued input. Asking at the gate, she had found which way he had set off, and easily deduced his destination.

"On foot?" she berated him from beside him in the carriage she had arrived in. "And alone?" She gestured at the squadron of guards that had accompanied her. "Even through the avenues, this is the minimum my uncle would allow me to travel with. And you took a route direct! Did you run into anyone?" she asked at the last, obviously concerned.

"People, yes, obviously, but no trouble." He didn't exactly lie to her; Left and Right hadn't been any particular bother.

"Well you're lucky," she said still not placated. "People have gone missing in there before, you know."

"I'll be more careful next time, I promise," he said reassuringly. "It won't happen again. I appreciate your concern, but I can look after myself, you know."

"Hmph," was his only reply, and she looked out the window away from him. He took her hand.

"I know you can't help worrying, and I appreciate it," he said, "and I'll try to be more mindful of that."

Her glance lowered and then moved back to his face. "You always know the right thing to say," she said softly. Her voice hardened. "But that doesn't mean you're going to get off lightly."

He just laughed lightly. "Oh, I do love you, Jane," he said, putting his arm around her contentedly.

"Hmph," she said again, but rested her head on his shoulder and held his hand.

That night passed relatively uneventfully, except for the Kahn's slight remark on Delphi's journey that morning. "Direct through to the River District, you say? My, just today a man was found unconscious in the middle of one of the lanes; when he came around he was full of protesting innocence of any and every thing. Very accusing of a group of men who'd knocked him out, though he wasn't too clear on the reasoning – his story kept changing, so we kept him in custody."

"Indeed?" Delphi said innocently. "I must have just missed that confrontation; didn't see anyone other than those going about their daily business."

The Kahn regarded Fox knowingly, but nodded understandingly. "Well, I don't doubt you could take care of yourself anyway – though I'm sure Jane would much rather you avoided the necessity."

Delphi winced at the mild rebuke. "We've already had words on the matter, il'Kahn, and I agreed to be mindful of not giving her cause to worry in future."

Chimaera nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Anyway, I heard you defeated the poor Baron at his own game – and even sentenced him to finding a new woman to help him look after his roses?" He looked at Delphi questioningly. "You don't seem like the sort to play matchmaker."

"I must be more than I seem, then," Fox joked, then continued more seriously. "No one should spend their life alone."

Chimaera nodded agreement. "You're a good man, Fox, you know that?"

"You've said that before, I believe," Delphi pointed out lightly.

"Doesn't make it any less true, my boy."

Delphi shrugged. "Good, bad; I just do what I think is right. One can't but do what seems best."

The Kahn rolled his eyes ceiling-wards, then looked at Jane. "This is one very irritating young man."

"You've said that before too, uncle," she reminded him, then looked across at Delphi. "Though it's not any less true by that fact."

"Should I retreat so you can discuss my short-comings in private?" Delphi asked mildly, but not genuinely offended.

"No, that's all right dear," Jane replied. "We're all friends here anyway. Besides," she continued impishly, eyebrow arched, "you don't have really have SHORT-comings, as such."

"You raise an interesting point, my dear."

"Perhaps I should be the one to retreat?" Chimaera said to no-one in particular as Jane blushed under Delphi's gaze.

"No, that's all right uncle; I'm sure Delphi and I can continue this conversation later, more privately." She continued to blush as Delphi's legs brushed hers under the table.

The next day they slept in, unsurprisingly, and spent the rest of the time with the Kahn planning details of their expedition – he was hoping to get the whole thing underway soon after their wedding.

"Trying to get rid of us, uncle?"

"Not exactly, dear, but once you're married it's really time for you to move out and get your own place, don't you think? Delphi can finally get some place less luxurious that he can feel more comfortable in."

"I don't know, Chimaera, I'm getting pretty used to it now; I'm sure I could manage to learn to like it."

Finally, their big day arrived. The wedding wasn't scheduled until mid-afternoon – which was just as well since they didn't get out of bed much before noon. Gaian custom, unlike Prasian, certainly did not include the groom not seeing the bride on the wedding-day until the veil was lifted, although the more prudish suggested it. They were inevitably ignored, as many of them never actually ever did marry, and so had no inkling of what they were talking about.

They met their families for lunch, the traditional time for airing any disagreements that may exist before the ceremony, but there certainly was none in this case. The general sentiment was instead "About bloody time," as Delphi's father expressed it.

Trepidation was expressed on the news of their upcoming voyage, and there was much advisement of being careful – or in the case of Jane's father, to be on the look out for some good fish to catch on the way.

"And make sure it's a sunny spot you choose for your capital," Delphi's father added, ever the practical one. "We want to feel at home when we come to visit."

They all reassured the well-wishers as best they could, and agreed that favourable weather was a prime consideration. "I'll keep a look out for a good desert," Fox said to his father. "Just bring plenty of fresh water."

Chimaera joined them then, throwing the Fox parents out of kilter a bit, as they'd never met the ruler before, obviously. As Delphi had found, a general sense of awe gave way quickly to a general sense of liking, and they were soon all chatting as if they'd known each other forever. At long last also, the Kahn was able to identify where it was Delphi inherited many of his more noticeable qualities, though many remained unexplained as Delphi's very unique personality.

And then the time had come; the royal procession that led to the Grand Auditorium and the grand entry. The Kahn, conducting the ceremony, entered first, followed by Delphi and Jane. In two ranks behind them were their respective families, who veered off to take seats in the front row of the massive seating space as they reached the front. The Kahn continued up the steps Tarin had placed leading up to the stage, the couple following.

Originally, Delphi had dreaded the enormous amphitheatre being the venue, given the massive turnout of 'guests' that had turned up to be a part of the occasion. Most of the usual court-goers were attending, after all. He was indeed surprised that Jane had even mentioned it, given her terror of appearing in front of crowds. But now, up on the stage before the lectern where the Kahn stood, holding the hands of the woman he loved, he understood perfectly – he didn't notice any of the crowd, almost didn't even notice the Kahn. All he really noticed was Jane, that radiant beauty before him.

Gaian wedding ceremonies were usually blissfully short, for the benefit of the audience and couple both, as each looked forward much more to the party afterwards. For the benefit of the crowd, the Kahn droned on more than was really usual, incorporating some of the more ancient speeches and blessings that most people now did without to promote brevity.

Possibly half an hour later – neither Delphi nor Jane knew exactly or particular noticed or cared – the ceremony was concluded, and the couple was told "you may now celebrate your union" – their cue to exchange their first kiss as a married couple. That went on for quite a few seconds, to the applause of the witnesses, then the guests who were not invited to the party left – about 90 percent of those who attended.

The curtain then went up, revealing the rest of the stage and the tables and chairs set out for the celebrations. The Fox family was relatively small, but Jane's certainly was not, and when their respective friends were added to the list, there was still quite enough of a crowd left to easily fill the stage. Karl Psilum headed the catering as they all took their places and set themselves the arduous task of drinking to the health of the happy couple.

Needless to say, the following day was rather a write-off, to be spent recovering, or in some cases still celebrating in the palace rooms. The guest wing remained quite a jovial place until the morning two days later, when the more enthusiastic finally gave up and passed out.

The Kahn, unfortunately, was not able to be one of those enthusiasts, holding court the day after the ceremony to announce the impending expansionary fleet and detailing the plans he and Delphi had so far decided upon. Various complaints were first quite numerous, with many a member with more than their fair share of ego putting forward suggestions; the statement of "If I may suggest..," was quickly met with a negative from the Kahn.

Ferré was suitably eloquent with his protestations, dismissing such an idea as unfeasible, saying that surely no commander could be trusted, not to mention able, to function so distant from the primary continent. Finally, he simply asked who had volunteered for the position of commander of "this doomed expedition."

"No-one volunteered," Chimaera replied. "I had to appoint someone whom I thought capable."

"Who could be so capable as to establish a nation without the guidance of the capital, so separated by ocean that it will be?" Ferré not quite scoffed.

"After due consideration, I appointed Delphi Fox as expedition commander, whose idea this expedition was right from the initial stage. The basics which I have so far outlined are his and mine, and I intend to leave all relevant planning and strategy in his hands once he has evaluated the situation as he sees fit."

Ferré stood stock still for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. "I withdraw my objections, il'Khan, and offer my full support to this expedition in any way that my suggestions may benefit."

"Thank you Baron," Chimaera acknowledged. "I'll leave that up to Commander Fox to decide; he may wish you to appoint a representative to travel with him."

"I presume your daughter will be travelling with him?" Ferré enquired.

"I don't think there's any likelihood of ever separating them," Chimaera said with a wry grin.

Ferré laughed easily. "Indeed. In which case, no representative of mine will be necessary. By your leave, il'Khan." He bowed and retreated to stand by his father.

Two weeks later, all was in readiness. Volunteers for settlers to accompany the expedition had been considered and ranked by ability – extra ships had been added at Delphi's request that they take more than planned, given how many more had volunteered than they had first anticipated. They were to be accompanied by regiments of infantry from the Gaian and Delphi garrisons, Delphi's brother, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, Karl Psilum. He had presented himself the day previous to sailing, requesting that Delphi take him on as attendant to the Governor's household. Fox was more than happy to grant his request – though Chimaera was less than pleased to lose one of his best staff.

"Still," he said, "at least he's going to a good home."

It was a long, arduous journey, as they had all known it would be. Tempers ran high, but the soldiers, distributed throughout the ships, managed to keep the peace, with authority as arbiters should the need arise.

Harsh words were quickly forgotten, and tensions seeped amazingly out of all the adventurers once land was sighted. The first land they were to happen across a small island that Delphi decided to pass by – to a certain amount of grumbling, admittedly, but he assuaged the protesters by pointing out that such a restricted space would do no good to support any size of population given the limited equipment they'd brought with them.

And so they continued, until the fleet finally happened across what appeared to be a substantial land mass. Fox dispatched some smaller, faster ships to explore up and down the coast for a suitable landing site, and potential settlement.

"At best we can put to shore to better explore," he mused. "We can decide on a good place to permanently settle later – there's no particular hurry, realistically."

As it turned out, the Southward scouting ship soon returned with favourable news. Apparently, a large bay was only a day's sailing down the coast, approximately opposite Delphi's positioning on the far continent, and with what appeared to be similar surrounds. The skiff scouting North along the coast returned with nothing more promising than a river delta bordered by thick forest, so the fleet turned South.

Sure enough, the cliffs gave way to plains trailing down to rocky, then sandy beaches, until finally they happened across the delta of a river that meandered through the plains, and a scouting party was sent ashore, led by Delphi and Tarin. They surveyed the area with a closer perspective, looked at each other, and nodded.

The place the chose for the base camp was on the river bank some distance from the coast, but the ships were still able to sail in close without grounding. The weather seemed favourable too. Though it would take some time to confirm, the prevailing wind seemed to roll warm off the plains, and the mountains dimly visible in the distance reminded many of home.

It took quite a number of months, but finally New Delphi – name chosen by consensus to much protest from Delphi himself – was a recognisable settlement with a few hundred citizens. Routine scouting parties roamed the plains on some of the few horses they had brought with them, reporting plains that would be well irrigated farmland if tended properly, and the fishing out in the bay was apparently bountiful.

Not long after they were settled in properly, Jane gave birth to their first child, a son. Delphi named him Sorla after his grandfather, with the second name of Chimaera in honour of the Kahn. "I thought she was just sea-sick," he was fond of joking, after it was plain they had conceived in Gaia – to no-one's particular surprise.

Traffic between New Delphi and the continent was reasonably regular, the voyage uncomfortable but relatively unproblematic. Slowly and steadily the new settlement grew to a village, then a town, as the surrounding fields were cultivated and farmed.

It took quite a number of years, but they finally started excavation of Tarin's planned amphitheatre, and construction of a proper manor-house for the Governor. Naturally Delphi insisted that concentration be given to the more civic buildings rather than spending so much time on them, but workers kept arriving from Gaia, and his justifications started to lose their credence as the marketplace, library, harbour, and finally the amphitheatre were completed. He relented, though insisted that due attention be given to the construction of proper houses for the citizenry.

Stone quarries were excavated in the nearby hills and sailed downriver to what was now recognisable as a small city in its own right. Finally, after nearly two decades, Delphi was happy that his dream had been realised. New Delphi was now a reasonably bustling city boasting several thousand in population, and regular trade with the original continent.

Furthermore, his confirmation that his dream was achieved came when New Lagash, the second Eastern city, was first settled upstream in the forest, trading them wood for stone and produce. He conducted the ceremony of his brother's marriage to Sarna, a woman who had been on their ship from Gaia and who worked with Tarin in the amphitheatre. He and Jane had had two more children, both daughters, named Cloud and Lora, and Sorla was nearly come of age.

They had briefly returned to Gaia for the funeral of Jane's uncle, the Kahn Chimaera, and the coronation of his son – still only a boy, since Chimaera had only married late in life, but guided by Baron Ferré, who's own father had passed away not long previous.

Jane Pilat was the first of the two to pass away, peacefully in her sleep after over five decades of life. Delphi handed over governance to Sorla the next day, and ceased to live himself that night. Many said he died of his broken heart – those who knew him better claimed that he had willed himself out of life to join his only reason for existence in the beyond.

It was the latter that stuck, and the tale of their love was set down in the annals of time, and Delphi was ever recognised as the one who had changed the destiny of so many people, and an entire nation.


End file.
